I think to myself, I could love you. I analyze the streetlight on my wall, it centers me, brings me back down to earth to you. Your face is my favorite thing about you, the way you smile softly, the way your eyes don’t lie to me, the way I hold your head. The phone died and the music stopped, but that was no matter, there was no matter between us, just reverberations, just wavelengths. We can’t give each other complements without throwing it back, so we agree on a tie, that everything good thing we say about the other must be the truth for the other one, reflections of who we are, manifestations of what we want. To close, I tell you I love buzzcuts, and I do, how closely shaven to your scalp, how closely shaken to your body. Out the window I checked for you, the rain is in fact still pouring, the same relentless yet forgiving rain we walked home in, it comes down over this neighborhood, over us, covering us, obscuring us, showing us, giving life to us in the ways we most hope for.