ars poetica

(for Arnie)

We sat reclined
Bony knees escaping from beige shorts knocking against each other
Fit for a sticky summer night.
Your position momentarily disrupted
By the allure of a bowl of peanuts.
You leaned forward, reaching out
For the glass dish.
Thin spotted legs
Caught my memory
The peculiar interest of imagining
My own in sixty years.
Your fingers followed an eager thumb as you selected ever so carefully
A choice nut, its powder and oil
rubbing off onto your skin.
A bite taken, a sure crunch
Like small feet on backyard brush.
Without pausing, you brought the thumb up to your mouth, sucked it clean in one motion. Shining in the light
Ready to rest,
You turned and smiled
Not knowing I was following your skin
Or writing a poem.