we’re in the back

of your parked car

and i still have my

seat belt on,

even though we’re not moving.

and you

look out the window,

at the empty streets,

silent homes,

and fizzing streetlamps.

     (there’s no space between us,

     yet we’re sitting so far apart)

you roll down the window,

your breath a train of shadows

fogging the glass.

and you

draw a heart.

with fingers of ice,

still coated in condensation,

you place a hand on my leg.

     (there’s space between us,

     yet we’re sitting so close

     i can tell you’ve done this before)

like a dancer,

you move

through me:

ghost,

a man i cannot hold.

we kiss like a rose,

petals blooming onto each other,

setting the world ablaze

with color

     (you have always been my secret garden)

as we move farther in your parked car,

lights off,

windows cracked,

skin locked,

i begin to unbuckle.