After they hooked up 
he led her outside & kissed
her hand like some Downton Abbey
playboy. Later she called him back to talk 
about constellations, the both of them past curfew 
& starry-eyed with the novelty
of it all. I think I’m in love, she’d whispered
to me as if it was a secret or something
I’d earned. I saw them again that summer
down at the lake; he was teaching
her to skip stones, one tawny arm hooked
around her waist like a bungee cord. So what
if I’m a voyeur? We can’t all take the leaps
& lips & limbs we want. A meteor
is what you make of it—a death
wish, a soft kiss in the dark.