You blew spit on me
when you laughed,
your hands cupping your mouth
a split second too slow to cover your raspberry giggle.
And even though you apologized profusely,
turning beet red as you
turned to escape
from me,
to hide.
All I want
is to pull you back,
To see if I can make
you smile again,
where your body
lets its every guard drop
in one spit second,
and your heart moves too
fast for your brain.
So tonight when I go home,
hair reeking of spirits, sauces, and spice,
skin still sticky from nerves,
I don’t think I’ll shower; ‘cuz if I did,
I’d wash away the tiny
flecks of proof
of when I saw you
for the first time.