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I would like for you to kiss me
under the light
on the corner
of Rizal Drive and 29th
the midnight of a drizzly Friday
in the summertime

I saw a couple there once,
at that same spot
so deeply lost in
each other
and that infinite moment

while I stood across the street
unintentionally privy
to their intimacy
beads of light rain
on my hair and warm mist
sticking to my skin,
trying to find a cab
that would take me home

the street lamp illuminated
the nocturnal drops,
slashes of a thousand
silver knives on
the black of night
dancing with gravity,
and them

I was so sleepy that
half of me thought it unreal,
the other half thought of you

the same half that
got reminded,
in a fit of déjà vu, how
certain things, like
perfect timing and true love
align like stars and
create a means for
the less than usual
to happen,
such as time folding
upon itself

and if you kiss me
under that light
in that rain
at that hour
next Friday
this summer,
that could be us that
I am watching from
several yards away
right before I get home
to write this poem
and tell you where
and when
I would like you to kiss me.

“Lovers in the Rain” by photographer Ian RP


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