The New York subway tunnels in July hold
an indescribable heat.
We woke early on Sunday. You reached
for me, or I for you, I can’t remember which.
I don’t know these lines well yet. I am a fish
wriggling my way upstream.
You brought coffee, strong and hot, lay it
gently on the nightstand.
I keep thinking about the time that it will feel
like I’ve lived here forever.
Whenever our gaze collides, I am certain I could swim
in your eyes
A small window of good fortune: the late night train
arriving without a wait.
I go to sleep wrapping arms around you,
even when you’re not there.
Underneath this city, another city.
Love, humming through the tracks.