Crush, Supermarket, California

It’s easy to
fall in love
with the
grocery store boys—
the one with the
tiny coffee cup
sweatshirt, too-tight
pants & cotton shoes or
the impossibly pale
fish boy who smiles
when he says, I’m
from Alaska. Your
heart swelled,
stupid &
dreaming
of a boat
in arctic
waters,
stars,
dots
that
dot the
ocean floor, you
will read
him poems & he
will explain the code
in the constellation
until morning,
waking together,
hunting for
no fish, sailing
as you two do,
parallel
only to
each other,
listening to ice
melt
back
to water.