a poem on memories held with magic fingers

yes
from time to time i do
think back to the night wrapped around us like a seductive blindfold
and footprints left in extinguished dust on staircases leading always into the early morning bruise
blue and purple hues threatening, eyes swollen from straining the black tea night, smoke and sweat
you at my side obscured in doorways
the fire alarm fuss trampling about in front of us
I might have stood pool que still in hand
your fingers left lingering on the keys upstairs
Drawn close together by the cold
in simultaneous shiver as that instant froze
I just happen, in mid conversation, to look up to you the exact same moment you lean down into me
our lips meet sweet and soft in the middle
innocent and respectable
cosmically intense and completely unforgettable
and it caught my heart the way those little things do
even after all the edges of memory
are torn and worn to fade out fuzzy
through all the landscape and weather between us,
that you do too
think back from time to time