Love

a term I seldom use

 

Summer clothes

Packed in tight

Memories

A voice declares

"Doors closing"

Faces stilled

 

Such quiet

hushed phenomena 

What would our ancestors 

make of this crushing

closet?

Strangers allowing strangers

their Intimate space

Expelled air 

The body's breath

 

A nervous cough suppressed 

A weary sigh

eyes meeting 

eyes avoiding

"Doors opening".

 

Relief 

and the memory of

breasts against arms

buttocks pressed into 

groins

Sweat

 

We go our separate ways

A bit like love.

 

Words and image:  Tommy Carroll