Intimacy

There is nothing tepid
Stirring in this air
Between each exhalation
From the navel to the neck
A light rail travels through
Interrupting for just a moment
To allow the crowds to gather
Disperse and find their purpose
From a pocket full of pepper
They each release their hands
Nothing mild about this morning
Though the station would disagree
Joining each finger for a puzzle piece
As they journey closer to their seats.

Kelly Curiel
February 14, 2008