when you touched my hand
when you whispered in my ear
when you said my poems were good
when you smile in my general direction.
Maybe I was just in a lucky room
blue drapes around the rainbow carpet.
I like to believe it was because of me. Faulty
reasoning on a butcher’s knife two hams
away from a sandwich.
She’ll ask me later what that means.
I’ll tell her it was just so you
could talk to me for an hour or two.