The Poet X Analysis

Friday, October 19

About Being in Like

The smoke park is empty again.

And I’m so glad we finally

have another half day.

The afternoon stretches before us.

No Mami to call me. She’s still at work.

Twin’s genius school runs on a different schedule.

Caridad never texts during class.

It’s just me and Aman

and his hand brushing my cheek

to insert an earbud.

“You ever smoked a blunt?”

I shake my head.

“Word. Drake is better when you lit.

But we can listen to him anyways.”

And so I shut my eyes,

pressing my shoulder closer to his

as he settles his iPhone between us,

as he settles his hand on my thigh.

Placing my head in the crook of your neck

makes me happy to be alive.

Eyes closed hands clasped.

Don’t breathe and maybe

we will live like this forever.

It be gibberish but everything

you whisper sounds like poetry.

I missed you.

This was supposed to be a question.

Not a poem confession or whatever it’s become.

I just wanted to know if you would listen

with me to the sound of our heartbeats.