A Poem.

[arastarred]

over my shoulder, the air bitter;
  I wanted it there.
Brushing swiftly, deftly - raising the hairs on my arms,
close like shivering,
ice encrusted windshields.

I hold my tongue.

It's rivers there, rivets in between - do I see my frame?
outlined against the barest sky, grey
eyes hold me back.

Touch me, I shutter. It's murmurs fighting 
outloud with bashing cans
of the shrillest teenage screams,
film-school-scary movie variety.

My choice,
among all the ones.
I choose.

The lips so close to the chin,
all I ask is that they touch, once,
one time, one tense, one kind
moment unraveled and over
and over shifted among my weight.
The sound across my lips to your
lips.

Just words, I say.
Just words.