shirt tucked tightly, smoothed over the contours contained therein
the body of evidence in support of the conclusion already reached
this, not in roundabout form, no pussyfooting here, bub,
but directly, like no one I’ve ever met
the soft curves in continuation over hip and haunch where the body bends, folding softly in a series of gestures and suggestions
and somewhere in all this, the differences diminish
the distance is diminished and the gravity,
that which almost inexplicably draws one thing to another
becomes the only thing that matters