She pulled back my headphones
while the wind was roaring,
my eyes in my notebook,
to tell me what I cannot remember.
Strands of her hair blew
into my mouth.
I crushed the can in my hand
a little,
her hand cupped to my ear
so I would not miss a word.
I put down my notebook and stood up.
She took my hand to the edge of the rooftop.
Below us, all along the curb,
turn signals, and tail lights, and glass
shone in the sunlight like jaw breakers
blown apart from a kicked in machine.
My fingers in hers, palms beaming.
My eyes grin
her mouth nods back I know.
