Lines between lesbians.  

"Coffee and a hike?" 

"Sure, no problem." 

"Can you drive?" 

"Sure, no problem." 

Adjacent to my 2002 Chevy, you stood, 
leaning on a stop sign post at a 45-degree angle. 
I parked and messaged you.

Union Station watched me from across the street. 
Big arched east-facing windows already shadowed by the settling sun. 
She would repeatedly beckon us back to her until the end. 

Head up, you see me, the tender Tinder girl. 
Sauntering, you arrive at my passenger side door.
Guitar string and rock climbing calloused fingers wave, 
and you let yourself into my SUV.  

A feigned comfort settled over your 5’ 5” frame.
I studied your face while driving us to North Table, 
using four-way stop signs as an excuse to glance. 
That night, we drunkenly saw all of each other. 
Since then, we’ve sharpened our points of view. 

Infuriated, hurt, curious, or inquisitive on either end, 
we turn— back to back. 

Not to fight adamantly for a shared purpose…

Rather, to examine our motives, needs, wants, and desires. 
To grow as we go? 

Using tools only time and experience can provide, 
we dutifully tended our own secret gardens. 
Our separate greenhouse walls guarded sacred space. 
Neither of us dared shatter the windows. 
Neither demanded the key to the house of the other. 

Rather- 

Crushing conversations between us led to a 180.
We faced one another and spiraled away. 

I planted boundaries that season. 
I found pain & peace. 
You planted forbidden kisses that season. 
You found pain & freedom. 

While wintering in our curious connection, 
I found there are no right angles.