I eat the dust of your words, inhale the way your finger curl
around the lip of your pocket, tripping on lemonade, weaving my way through suburbia thick as quicksand,

sucking me in your throat your laugh the way your nose swoops down two degrees in the middle

walking through. i could eat up the clouds, i could swallow the billowing streets and i could reach out and hold your hand but I don't

because we aren't what we seem to passerby. oh, look, boyfriend and girlfriend laughing sharing a milkshake, they must be thinking,
but we aren't

that. we are nothing and i will always be wishing i'd
jumped into the gap but i don't like getting my feet wet,
i don't like when the music's too loud. i don't like plunging in headfirst but i wish i'd had the goddamn guts to dive into

you. i grope blindly for words

i am sorry for not ripping my gaze off your biceps

i am an english-major-to-be but i do not even have
the words to tell you what
i am thinking with all that is me, that
being with you like this, it's like
a rainstorm in august
racing accross the blacktop as the droplets invade our skins.