it's not intimacy we want,
the elegant murmur
at candelit restaurants
or the ringing of silverware
at thanksgiving
with dainty snow falling outside
our faces are split now,
coming apart in time
her right side flushed from a wedding dance,
the other i kissed
in a crosswalk or movie theater
crushed with envy and desire
under the quiet chatter of traffic control
she twists away in white
to bow reverently under a dozen wishes
for a happy life and children,
then turns back to me
unstuck in time
wondering and protective
not for a second divided
but for my own eyes
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