by Abner Dormiendo

Nights like these, the traffic is a blessing.
A reminder of stillness
In the midst of motion. You, in front of me
And our knees barely touching
As we try our best to occupy
This vehicle. Also, the rain
Has fallen. The windows
Are open; soon, tongues
Of rain set themselves against
Your neck: half-lit incandescent
Streetlight, shadows in gradients
Across the face. The drops zigzag
To make home of your collarbones,
The smallest dam in the world
And I admire how your fingers
Never move an inch
To flick them as they slowly
Make their way down your shirt, each drop
Without the intentions of stopping
Colliding against each other.