the space between---

Cole

Post football. Post shower. Post lunch. We find each other
on the couch, and not because there is nothing to do, there
always is something else, but this is where we make right angles,
boneless fish prepped for the evening meal and later,

riding in the car, you'll tell me, next year, you'd rather play
soccer, for no particular reason other than preference & i
remind you, no matter what---

but for now, we share a pillow, television on, sun striping
the room & your still damp hair tickles my nose---our
hands glance, you grip my thumb then curl into my chest
like a knuckle, the briefest moment, of all our yesterdays
& tomorrows---

a pause in the flipbook, paper corner caught on a fingerprint
leaving little cuts, unfelt until your are long past

'you sure you don't want to do anything?'

'nah'

'ok'

& we settle comfortably in the space between stars