Alone on a night when everyone seeks someone,
you are not here seeking,
but just understanding
with big eyes what your ears cannot in perfect ten.
You smoke quietly in a crowd that drinks to death.
You do not like dancing.
But with your smile so charming,
my fingers cannot help but ghost over your skin.
I ask for a lighter, your name–where are you from?
“Your English is fast,” you say.
So I slow down, stay,
and liquid courage starts to make us lean closer.
Without expectation of requital at all,
I say, “You’re very pretty.”
You reply, lonely,
“I have a boy,” like that is an explanation.
Still I go for a kiss and your hands warm my arms.
“It’s the dreads,” you think,
“All you,” I say with a wink.
You laugh loudly and I hum “Kiss on My List.”
We have another round of drinks, cigarettes,
and open-mouthed kisses.
Then rush the excuses;
yes, no, we cannot greet the morning together.
If there is just one thing this night you should believe,
should never forget — just one:
“Du bist wunderschön.”
So swim, shake, fuck, freak out. Babe, let your heart sing.