And we sit,
Books and cookies,
Black tea with mango,
Spring rain washing the smog away,
Cars wet noise and horns.
The heat is off,
Ducts blocked by furniture,
And my stinginess with electricity.
You turn the page,
And I am suddenly aware of your foot,
Covered in a sea blue wool sock,
Inches away from my hip,
Your toes curling as you read the good parts.
Your foot moves incrementally,
The sole pushing against my thigh,
I read another paragraph and drink,
Unwind your sock slowly to touch,
To smooth your toes, the ball of your foot,
Rough skin and warm under my fingers.