I sit
on a worn stoop
with a t-shirt draped on a bare shoulder, an
iron rail against my back,
a warm beer on the step,
and exhale
cigarette smoke.
It lifts from a twitch of lips,
a whisper calling
in a sweaty longing to touch your skin.
But all I can do is watch
as it drifts
five stories up
past the window
where lamplight silhouettes your rugged face
the way you silhouette my heart
while it beats out the moments
in the dark
waiting.