raindrops blur the
highway; signs and
headlights turn
swiftly into an
impressionist piece
(and all the while,
jazz plays loudly.)

hours before, we
stood at the sink.
you washed and
rinsed, i stood and
“looked cute.” after
a moment, you
turned to me and
you slid your arms
around my waist,
hands leaving soapy
prints at the small of
my back.

sometimes, the smallest
moments are the most
significant —

moments like this.