His voice when he calls me,
is the sort of warm you get
with socks, right from the dryer.
“Really, really good,”
He answers my first query.
I know it has to do with her.
He tells me how they went climbing,
and he was afraid, but sent the problem.
The way she looked over at him-
(Here, he interrupts himself to exclaim about how romantic it was).
“And she looked at me and said ‘I love you,'”
he finishes, quietly.
My throat is tight with fierce joy.
I spin the golden band
on my left ring finger.
We chat for a while-
about how he said it back,
how happy I am for him,
how cute her dog is.
And about whether or not
we should look for a house that allows dogs
when we move in the spring,
the way we discuss things
when we know it’s far too soon.
Cincinnati looms behind me.
I ignore it to watch the joggers
who pass in front of my rental car.
I think about flying home
and finding them both in my bed-
warm and happy as socks,
right out of the dryer.