"A Conversation on the Edge of a Pier"

"what are you doin?"

he asked,

with the slightest bit

of a southern accent,

as he turned his head

to look at mine on his shoulder.

through hazy eyes i peered down

at the waves almost licking our feet,

and saw that my hand was tangled in his,

or the best it could be

when it was wrapped around my knee.

"holding your hand,"

i said,

as if it weren't obvious.

and he laughed.

just a small one.

he said he hadn't been able to relax for a while,

but a small laugh meant he was trying.

and then he asked me,

"why?"

and i'm not sure he was joking.

so to a question i thought was honest

i replied with honesty,

"because i think you’re cool, that’s why."

and he laughed again,

just a small one,

a trying to relax laugh,

and tilted his head down

considering my slurred words

before looking back at me,

and then at the rolling black water.