Various and Sundry Poetry

bold

“So,” I said, swiveling on the barstool.
It was a Monday night, ordinary as laundry.
“Do you think we’ll live together?”
I took a long pull of my IPA.
It was only slightly on this side of bitter.
Her eyes crinkled. Her dimples deepened.
The subtlest film of moisture appeared
at the root of her lashes. She took the hand
I had put on her lap, traced the skin there.
The bar was filling up, college kids
on a study break. The glass
was pressing a groove into the napkin.
“I love how bold you are,” she replied,
then swallowed hard. I saw the ripple
of her throat, the movement down her sternum.
We were inches apart. We were apart only inches.
She opened her mouth to say something,
but not a syllable came out.
Her eyes never moved from mine,
and that, that
was how I knew.