Drive-by

My shiny new steel-frame camera is so compact

Your hands almost look large holding it,

One slightly ink-stained finger pushing

The on-pad - the lens-cover irises,

Out pokes the lens, up pops the flash -

You keep saying, ``How cute! How cute!''

And I keep letting the easy straight-line by.

Still you won't let me take your picture,

Apologizing for forgetting makeup and earrings,

As if I wanted to remember you all dolled up.

I don't want to argue or wheedle or insist, and anyway

You're buying dinner, a little like old times.

You're wearing a dress covered with a flock

Of tilted hats tossed in formation towards

Some forest of hatracks. I would have caught a few

In that picture I coveted. And for once I like

The complicated thing you've done with your hair.

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After, taking an elevator down, I lean

Against one wall to maximize your space.

You're looking at me with that expression

I still can't identify - perhaps Bacchic - it's

Unbearable. I look away, and just see you

Sidle up to me (who would have thought

That sidling could be sexy?) and reach

Your arms up to me. How bold I feel

Putting my arms not outside, but

Inside your loose jacket

To help you hold yourself against me.

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A friend says, ``You're leaving, but at least

You get to hug a lot of women goodbye.''

I say, ``Tonight I didn't hug, I got hugged -

I didn't get to start it or stop it -

It was just a drive-by.''