Lovers-Lie

The way our spoons touched in the sink like sterling lovers after I made you soup when you were sick on a Tuesday illicit uniformity tentatively touching waiting for the sponge and I, reluctant to disturb the forbidden culinary affair. and the memory of my lips meeting the echo of your lips embossed in sterling silver I'd never tell you I'm jealous of the audacity of the spoons I wonder what the teapot would think.

i. She said, "Stop wishing I was somebody else." I looked her in the eye while she cried and said, "I don't want anybody else." ii. The rain spitter-sputtered on the tin cover above us while we waited at the bus stop. If I had an extra bus ticket I would have offered to pay her fare; but I didn't. And her foot played at the edge of a puddle, while she lay out her open palm to catch the falling rain that looked so much like teardrops. Then she walked out of the bus shelter entirely so that my hand instinctively grasped red-cotton sleeves to pull her back. "Don't do that, you'll get sick." And water drip-drip-dripped from her temples, in