“Did you notice? I wore a white t-shirt for you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Leaving me to expound upon the significance of virgin snow
Plucked from a block’s worth
Of Manhattan sidewalk slush.

In the post-game analysis anyway
It all amounts to nothing. We two finished
In a scoreless tie; nothing-nothing apropos,
All each has and to look forward to.

Wear it still, wonder
Whether to expect your phone call.

I’ve spent few moments in myself
Since the night that you last slept here,

Limited as my thoughts are
To the taste of your back ’neath my starving-’til-then lips.
Remember I thought to tell you
When going to sleep last night,
In those nights since,
I’ve not faced in your direction
(Hope I don’t reserve a spot
Only for my mem’ry).

Now little else remains of me
Beyond my hand outstretched
As if I’d lived inside your dreams and disappeared.
Forgot the rules of my own game
But glad to see your smile.