May 2, 2012

I know the streets are slick.
I can hear the cars below,
disturbing puddles, tossing
that oily water into the air.

I don’t know whether or not
you’re happy. I could tell before
by that glint in your eye; that
crazy way you’d kiss me; the
sass that would ooze out on

certain Thursdays. We’d buy
sushi downstairs. Remember

what you would get, what you
would say?
That is how I knew you were
happy.

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