finding me uptight, tense.
No reason, really,
except the jangling phone,
a tight schedule, and
endless interruptions.
Sitting down to dinner,
it all came out.
You had problems too.
We passed them back and forth
along with chicken, bread,
tomatoes, beans.
And then you passed a smile,
familiar, yet somehow new.
I savored it awhile,
then sent it back,
unable to describe
this taste of loving you.