Walking
Walking down the street
you hold my arm so tightly
I almost lift you.
We leave the bar after a “happy hour” together. I use the cool night air as my excuse to draw you closer, to show you how easily your tender frame fits against me as we wait to cross the street. Your head matches perfectly against my shoulder as I clutch your arm tightly against my side; gently but firmly. I guide you as we cross the intersection, “Quick, let’s run.” I had to laugh. We ran because the light was changing, but there weren’t any cars in sight.
Missed Connections are filled with good, bad, and walking-down-the-street- haiku. Did you write one? Did you find one? Before you break any traffic rules, email the link to Lovelorn Poets. We’ll preserve that burst of post-happy-hour-happiness for all eternity.
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