Passerby Love

We sit knocking knees, looking
at one another’s lips, thinking,
“Who would I kiss? Pat on the back
over and over, just to touch?”

I don’t want to bolster you much,
just want to slide my lips sideways
across yours and clasp little fingers
together, want to touch your shoulder,
want a few grams of your warmth for
some self-esteem, to chew on meaning
and fat and multi-task my way to nirvana.

Dull fireworks, fizzling and falling,
passerby love and casual affection
mediocrity making my mouth water.


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