When you sat talking about how you loved Jim Morton
The tilt of his chin, the blue of his eyes
The lilt of his laugh, the way his butt looked in his 501s

The only thing I could think of was
The way your mouth moved as you spoke those words
The curl of brown hair escaping from your ponytail
The lemony scent of your skin
The way the light reflected off your neck

Yes, I said, he’s dreamy, isn’t he
But in my mind I pictured you lying beside me
On a blanket in a meadow at night
Looking at the stars, our shoulders touching
Our hands intwined