Walking through summer
towards the hair salon in Primrose Hill
two women drift by, one saying to the other:
I have always wanted to do two things:
learn to play the electric guitar and
the other desire lost
among voices and the space
between their mouths and my blue skirt
trembling around my ankles.
I cross the bridge, men and women
speaking on cell phones, running to the train,
their longings unknown,
sharp, pressing into the ground, your longing
hovering somewhere between my fingers,
mine in the heat just above the pavement.