his red and gray Dakota truck
small for a large boned man as he,
with hands strong enough to plow fields
yet, touch me tenderly.
An ability I lacked, to touch,
I mean really-- touch him.
A quick mug of coffee, a hurried cigarette:
Kisses lasting as long.
And who knows why?
Only the wind and sun shimmering
on green leaves
knows more than me.
Suzzane copyright ©1997
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