To The Guy At The Parking Lot

at the grocery store at the corner
of Mt. Washington and Falls -
one second, we're friends
two, and we are lovers.
Pretend names are empty labels -
I’ll take yours as long it doesn’t start with a Z.
Marcia
was always the last
to get called in class in elementary school,
scrawny kid with chicken greased hair,
it sucked.
First, is what ‘Everyone Wants to Be’
ask Ziggy, he knows.
Three seconds
we’re exchanging vows off blank pages -
you’ll do this, I’ll do that,
quick promises of you and I or me and you,
our grammar eroticism,
round faces mouth compliments,
it’s our wedding day, remember,
I’ve left out the madness,
the dress, the food, the dance, the cake, the flies.
Four seconds,
we’re someplace where there’s a honey-coated moon,
pious islands off a shredded map -
Croix or Kitts or Lucia,
you choose,
you stir,
you lead,
I’ll follow.
I’ll be who I have to be with you.
A balmy day in Baltimore.
A raindrop on my nose.
I’m cured from amnesia.

Maybe you bath with lavender soap
Maybe you eat crumbs off your plate
Maybe you sleep with your hands tucked inside your thighs.
We’re annulled -
our engines cheer us away,
yours, marigold red,
I’m golden.

© AH 2011