It was a few days before
Christmas and I was meeting
her for the first time.

We’d known each other
for years. Thought of one
another, but never acted.
There were some nerves.

My tire goes flat,
she locks her keys in the car.
Those were the first things to happen.
It was perfect waiting there,
amidst the holiday rush,
in the tire shop.
In no particular hurry—
talking and laughing at
the way things work.

Later, we shared a bottle
of red wine on her
white bedding. Told stories
and felt old scars; retraced memories
while making our own. Lit a joint
and blew the smoke out
her bedroom window.

We sat, stared, held, waited,
lost patience, sat and held again.
And that’s where we stayed.
Laughing the whole night
at nothing in particular and
being nothing more than ourselves
in the eyes of the other.

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