Juice

I lick my fingers as
She does
As N and I do to Z’s hands, one for each of us
As the M train slides in.
Grapefruit for pre dance breakfast
Dripping with rising water floating
In
Air
Sour like I anticipate
Sweet like I didn’t know how
Ripe
I remember pockets of citrus
Pods (vesicles,
I google)
Peeled at our junior year dorm table
She
Added sugar too
To.
One year ago, five
Seven years ago The concrete jungle:
Our distance appellation,
Settled
My stomach ocean
(Arrow in a slot)
As the train slides off the Williamsburg bridge
Glides from the East River view
Arches over those tugboats and ferries
Arrives
A little distance a little a little
No birds on the train
But if there were
they’d sure be
Singing.