tentative roots of a possible tree

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.
Smiling broadly,
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,

Playfully grave,
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.


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