Walking through summer 
towards the hair salon in Primrose Hill   
two women drift by, one saying to the other:  
I have always wanted to do two things: 
learn to play the electric guitar and   
the other desire lost  
among voices and the space  
between their mouths and my blue skirt 
trembling around my ankles.  
I cross the bridge, men and women  
speaking on cell phones, running to the train,  
their longings unknown,   
sharp, pressing into the ground, your longing   
hovering somewhere between my fingers, 
mine in the heat just above the pavement.