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He took a risk with me
riding his Suzuki with
engines roaring
chrome cylinders sliding
among cold, cold
molecules of chance
and drove past,
for the mean time,
all the details he’d
resolved to cherish,
later,
on the return trip;
if he ever made it back,
that is.
He did to the things
he didn’t know
for the one thing he knew:

He had to love me

had to set time ablaze
in order to cross
distances and walls
to be with me
because he knew me
to be that way,
recognized my soul
from the first look,
the first hello,
recognized the birthmark
and the face of
the yet unborn
fetus of a need,
saw that it fit perfectly
beside his own,
the way warmth seems
to multiply from
the cores of two human
beings when they
so much as touch, either
by intent or accident,
as if linking two
lonely planets that had
relied, through eternity,
on the same sun,
the same, identical sun
with the same crucial
and awesome power,
the same understanding,
that all they need,
ultimately, is to be
within sighing distance
of each other before
it’s beyond their control,
what free will was
created for, to have
the will to set aside
what they were taught by
the world they grew up in
in favor of the truth
that was inside them.

And he didn’t mind
not knowing how
I spent my evenings
or what I did
to help me sleep, or
whether I dreamed
in color or black and white
or how I liked
my morning coffee.
He had to love me,

right there and then,
without permission
or knowing why.
So he loved me.
And the knowing followed,
followed most beautifully.
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brooklynengagement
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“Alisha & Pierre Brooklyn Engagement” by photographer Joshua Dwain

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