I bought you some gloves
because I know how much you love
and I know how much I don't
and seeing you smile
because I remembered
our conversation over pints
about how small your fingers are
for your height
is enough of an easy gamble
to get me off my seat and do
what I am not accustomed to, at least around you.
Hopefully though, you'll love them because they're pink
and not because you expected nothing from me
five months removed from Christmas.
My gold star badge will be my secret.
I remember dialing but not
what I yacked about for an hour that night.
Remember how long it took me
to remember what your stupid favorite color was
along with your last name?
For what they are,
and I will eat your joy for what they mean
inside me.
