The Getaway

And so there is all this space
The space of a table set between us
And I have perched myself listening
And you have leaned yourself in
And we enjoy the table like the ridge of a fence
Or the middle cushion of a large sofa
Mutually relieved to see the face across
Inhaling an air made fresh through remembrance
Like a man back on his native soil
After a difficult and lonely trip
One on which he hadn’t the heart
To hope for return

And so to think of a get away
To think of the way home from this
Gets muddy
Because this feels like the arrival back
The trip up the front steps
And my question about your doctor
Or your sigh about my job
Seems a molecule removed
From the finger round your belt loop
And the breath upon my blouse
And the road out is obscured
By a tangle of growing green