The Language of Loving

"You both danced.

Not in the ways we expect, but by smiling at the reflections of your faces in the subway windows after work.

By seeing the cracks in the other as a way to let light in.

When you both ran to the top of the wet grassy hill to watch the night and feel your eyes burn and spark lust.

Your language was a liquid symphony cascading down your tongues like a river of spiritual revelations.

Those dark charcoal grit feelings were always quickly led close behind by a cheerful record to spin, a blue 45.

You danced when you both grabbed each other to notice the wildlife spot you through the trees and time went silent in warmth.

You light a candle and an hour later she blows it out.

You both danced."