She’s got this face

That pouts

Wonderfully.

Pulls her arms together

In cold rooms

So her breasts meet in the middle

Wonderfully.

Sips milkshakes between pursed lips

And talks to me with wide eyes

Steeped in pale green

Like windows

To better places.

But tonight, at midwinter,

She’s trying to hide her

Snow white calves beneath

Our table and a layered dress.

I stir my coffee

Thinking her over

And I say to myself:

They’re thick

They’re pale

And they’re absolutely

Wonderful

Baby.