We could meet in the parking lot
Of the Circle Cinema; the coffee
Shop has tasty tarts and comfy
Couches for us to share. Stir my
Cream in mystic spirals—recall
Steam over winter grates, clouds
Like meringue toasted in sun fall,
We were women in long clothes,
Ornamental metals chained around
our necks. In the second it takes to
Spin I have fallen in love with your
Chin and how your laughs sound.
Brown leaves as frozen as green
Buds in glaze, the season wheels
Like a drunken cinematographer
Who tries to tell what kisses mean.
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