There are times
when the brief half-touches of
strangers
satisfies the weak or months
worth of touching.
The grating of fingernails on my palm,
the release of
change-
or knee against knee
while sitting on a sofa.
Bright light for a moment,
(or rather a dawning light)
the sensation of someone being there,
-the realization
that grows until the change of position.
The change having already been given,
or the crossing of legs.
Then the look to see if she too noticed
as I noticed.
But she is not shaken, as I am,
but oblivious.
