This morning, you said that my body radiates warmth
Which is a rather nice thing to say, if you ask me.
Out loud I blamed my ethnicity,
With my back on the bed and my feet up in the air.
I hang everything I'm secretly proud of on the vowels at the end of my name.
You caught my feet in the air, laughed.
But quietly, in the bathroom mirror,
Before we left that room for the last time
I smoothed my curls with my fingers
And considered where that warmth really might be from...
How cold Northern California will be.
And when you commented on the deceptive breeze
Blowing with pursed lips over the bay in Baltimore
About how it hid the warmth with it's movement...
I considered that, too.