you and i are going to pasta beach

we’re going to play footsie under the table and you’ll walk with your legs swiping back and forth across the cement

your hair is dark and mine is darker. we’re dressed cute, cute enough, so that the hostess assumes we’re together and the other tables smirk at us. they think we’re cute.

we giggle over bowls of steaming

pasta

i feel the heat from the pomodoro and the parmesan on my face. when i look at you i see you, no i see me, and in these moments together my soul feels

free.

can’t you see us together tomorrow? can’t you see us together next week, next year? our hands fit with one another, our gazes merge in ways i don’t understand, not yet. our friends look at us and wonder, they wonder, how we found such magic.

in each other, we answer.

in each other.