by Eve Grubin

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.

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Eve Grubin is the author of Morning Prayer (Sheep Meadow Press) and The House of Our First Loving (Rack Press). Her poems can be found in American and British literary publications such as American Poetry Review, The North, PN Review, The New Republic, and Poetry Review. She teaches at NYU in London. See www.evegrubin.com.