Sunday afternoon
she wrote to forget
that Sunday afternoon
hot dizzy air
when she couldn't
breathe to see him
leave on that cold steel
bus sealed,
and safe from him
safe from her
his hand pressed white
upon a window of ice.
the only two
in that sterile crowd
saved from perfection.
saved in passion
skin against skin
he traced
her name in the dust
at twenty-two,
she didn't believe
the world would devour him

© 1985 J.L.Stanley