Under Thunder

holding hands under beer-crusted
bar tables: hardwood,
cedar maybe.
five fingers i have waited
five long years to grasp;
and i refuse to stop.
each motion in any
other direction is countered
by the little known fact,
there has always been
something between us.
wrong time.
wrong place.
wrong words.
wrong mind.
but then falling in love weather,
autumn weather,
sweatshirt in the sunshine weather:
burgundies, maroon and tree bark brown,
and heavy thunderstorms,
seventeen pounds heavier to be precise.
our clothes weighed seventeen pounds
more after an hour in the rain.
then the truck, and breathing
inside it. sharing breaths, cigarette breaths
and the pounding of the rain
is drowned out by the pounding
pounding
pounding
of my very own
my very own heart
as you sweet calloused fingers
across my face
and find my soul
etched in my earlobe.
the drunker you get, the closer i become
to kissing you. full on the mouth.
too much.
too forward.
too touchy.
too rapid.
and so i'll back off,
again. back off again
while we keep running in these back
assward circles, and my heart
puts itself through the paper
shredder you keep locked
in the space
your heart never was.