I saw her for the first time in a long time
Everyone seemed inclined to inform me
(warn me)
Of the precise location she was standing
From the moment I walked in.

She
Was drinking red wine,
The pattern on her tie
Almost-matched-but-didn’t-quite
The one on her pants, though
She
Said she had tried,
But I’d venture a guess
She
Preferred it like this,
Just a bit off.
She
Had too many things in her pockets and
They stuck out from her body like
Drawers left open on a nightstand
While searching for something lost.
She
Had cut her hair in a rather nice way and
When she said,

“Hello.”

It sounded like an exhale.
She
Has that way about her.

He says,
Meet me at these coördinates
We’ll get drunk, make love
Then write about the moonlight
I’m not much of a sailor
But I’ve been tying knots
In his limbs for weeks.
Would kiss his wounds
With salted lips
Could make love from this mistake
Abandon my map.
Should probably turn back.

He pulls words from my skin
Knocks over my ink well
Holds me under till I drop my pen.
He asks me when I finally will.
Give in.