He came back in,
closed the door behind him
and he held her,
first by the elbows,
then body to body.
Then he kissed her.
He kissed her
at last,

electrical currents running
between them.
He kissed her
at last.

The sun was bright and bleaching
outside
but it was dark in there,
the air melancholy.
He bent to kiss her neck,
careful not to leave a mark
though his belly was burning hot,
his mouth was on fire,
his tongue dying to leap out.
She made little noises,
almost whimpering.

They had waited ten years.

This was the moment.

Her eyes closed,
his open and aware,
they stood there,
kissing and holding each other
like that, tears
in their eyes
for about twenty-five minutes.

She stood fast to memorize the moment
and he stared to memorize her,
her face, her body,
her.

He left, holding her hand
until the last possible moment
and then he got into his car
to go pick up his kids
and she went home
to eat dinner with her husband.

They had pork chops,
rice, applesauce
and salad.

There were fried onions in the gravy
and it was delicious.

– John Tustin