“Stormdrain Lovestory”

The sticky dark table and 

My damp-rain hair saw us

Three pints in on Friday.

Me pining for your stories, 

You, recoiling and reticent. 

Fleetwood Mac looping and

How the hell do we know 

Everyone in this bar.

I want to step into 

Your space, just a touch more.

Tell me your mother’s name

So I can test out its sound. 

The world is a two-step and you

Save a dance for me, always.

I lean in just when I shouldn’t 

And look for the etymology 

Of “contact” in your eyes.

You’re glad we met, I am

Glad your shoulder was warm

And dense when my mind

Went off for a wander.