We can’t go back, can we,
to easy lightness.  Hand
floating out the car window,
cupping the air currents.  Joy
so reachable, before

his devout white collar,
his too handsome face
full of kind concern.
Comfort quoted from scripture,
while his eyes offered
more and more.  Before,

conversations turned to flirt,
skirted the subject of desire,
allowed youthful fantasies
to ripen.  Before

his visits stopped,
the hinted-at reason; blame
coiled around a heart.

the dragging weight
of secret shame.  Hand
slapped down.