not to each other, sharing emailed innuendos, winkies
and hallway high-fives that slide slowly along their palms.
It’s just enjoying a few laughs at lunch or when the sun shines
that especially warm yellow as the river cools the meandering
of their shaded conversations. It’s just a couple of good friends,
whose fingers lace easily as they walk, taking longer each day
to hug each other goodbye. It’s just two close friends texting
at midnight, making sure everything is still OK. It’s just the way
they fill each other’s newly discovered empty spaces. It’s just two
people, married to strangers really, who now know everything –
even that neither can dream these days without closing their eyes.
First appeared in Kentucky Review - September 2015