One Evening…

We borrowed a radio
and escaped the gathering shadows
waking the floorboards with laughter.

We talked of Gandhi and the morning paper
laughed longer than intended
hands entwined
you said stay.

Smashed sweaters on the tile
counter with desire strewn
couldn’t be friends
sink steaming the bathroom.

Delicious intent
for which rules bowed
fun charmed, claimed, gained
desire allowed.

In my room
streets of rain are but fading voices
stifled by the city’s familiar thundering.

Momentarily
freed to the
possibilities.

Jamie Morris
December 19, 2007

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