And If You Can't Be

catches up on places of maybe you.
A hiccup in my rhythm, pelvis in, out.
In    out
       still out
stuck on out
when eyes open, checking the
not you
    surrounding me.
Tongue and lips
wet with the wish
    of imagining
you.    In half light of rising moon
through my open window       he

mistakes me for a woman
wanting more of his mouth
in mine, his body in mine.

Good moonluck leaves gleaning
of my distracted disappointment
in the dark half of his view.