Some nights are not meant to be remembered

Still awake at five a.m.
and still learning about each other,
something else perhaps in the silky night.
I fashioned some rant about lack of understanding
to soothe your tears talking about him.
We paused, reminding each other
that we were members of a special group,
friends who totally trusted
and could share without fear.

You brushed back tears more than once
but never lost your shy smile
and so we sat on separate ends of the sofa
with our crossed legs sharing middle space
only sometimes touching and your fluttering hand
like a butterfly, took my eyes from your face.
Each time, returning there were your eyes
nestled somehow with mine in the space
above our crossed legs.

When you finally slowed to full pause
and I somehow talked about her,
you became some surer self,
your hand stilled and lay at rest in your lap,
your legs still crossed, listening with full face,
I talked into a trance and back, tired,
saw you sleepy returned as a hostess
ready to offer me the sleeping bag.

One last exchange we shared at dawn:
"do you think we've reached some understanding?"
"yes."
but there we were yawning again,
two sleepy heads at dawn.
You with afternoon classes to teach,
me with afternoon classes to attend.