At Hoyt

Walking down the subway stairs
I know the air is heated.
Your tall lanky body brushes against mine,
The warmth of your palm mingles with mine.
I steal a glance at your glowing golden cheeks
And the deep lines on your taut face
I know you have seen barbed wire angels
But you know what's cute?
You still loved the angel.
We reach the last few steps and I realize I don't know my way back,
You always confuse me.
The train receptionist verifies the direction of my journey,
I turn back to you and we inch closer.
The subway is kind of still and the receptionist seems not to exist,
The heat isn't so bad—I like it.
As I come closer, I feel the air you're breathing.
You kiss my forehead and cheek and it feels wonderful.
You ask me for a real kiss and I kiss your cheek.
It's too brief. You want a real one. I know you'll cheat.
I lean in again and I kiss your cheek longer.
But now we're so close that you do cheat,
I feel the wetness on my lips, while I stand frozen.
Dazed, I feel hit by a tide of tenderness.
I creep in to embrace you,
And we stand for one eternal moment.
Down the subway stairs is a suspended memory
Silent and powerful.