We took a journey.
After the drink

that somehow bridged our first hellos
then at night, as we attempted sleep,
the closed brackets of our bodies.

That night we carved new words in city stone,
bottomed glasses:
vodka and Diet Coke as our mouths,
judging, but kind,
spoke tomes
in the quiet move of Zygomaticus major
and minor
and more.

First, of nervous probing,
a smirk as you laughed twice at my voice.
Then, gentle,
making motions that predicated words.

I focused on your lips.
The words unsounded through a kiss,
spoke against snowdrift streets.

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