Later the same day

Earlier the same day I ran into my first serious boyfriend. 

You smiled, your top lip 

peeking over your jacket zipped all the way up, 

at me as a I squirmed in avoiding him twice. 

We arrived at the big event early this year and 

wandered in and out of the crowd chanting USA. 

It was cold on the beach and the sand was stiffer than in the summer. 

I emerge from the shallow freezing water and see you 

shaking out the towel, 

getting ready to wrap it around me.

Later the same day the towel is wet 

and folded neatly on the subway seat next to us. 

Your head pushes down heavy on my shoulder

and your words are slow.