out of breath in the same way
one sprints through a tunnel
trying to catch a train one knows
one’s going to miss, thinking:
was I trying to run away with him
or from him? Ever get the feeling
while sitting in a hotel lobby
your man is going to show
two hours after the last time
he texted saying he was running
late, will be there soon, don’t
go anywhere!–familiar odor
of mouthwash masking vodka
when he leans in for the kiss
almost not waiting for but always
is? Nor do you mention the baby
in a stroller no longer there
wailing harder when her father
reached both arms out to her
in a kind of pantomime, a sadistic
act looking momentarily cute
when he pinched her lips shut.