Your car is parked in front of my office.

After this long week of waiting,

here you are.


Our eyes touch


you sear a kiss on my cheek


this is the first moment.


We move backwards but still you end up in my lap,

outlining the contract

before the first kiss,

testing the water with just a toe

to end up soaking wet.


I re-meet your wife and daughter.

I pat your dog on the head.

We talk in half-code, not hiding;

vetting, testing, evaluating,

in plain view:

a dry run,

a walk-thru.


So far, so good.


Is this really our first go-round?

You and me feels like dream memory,

a shift one layer in,

recalibration, recognition,



My blood races:

dopamine-adrenaline-oxytocin-pheromone overload

but I’m sober enough to know

that this is how it should feel;

to trust when all of me agrees.


I’m beyond want of additional proof.

I’m riding the current.

I’m trusting the process.


I trust *us* to figure it out.

About jake.forrest

Poet. Songwriter. Etc. View all posts by jake.forrest

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