turn around, serenade

looking at photos of you from that night
it's hard to imagine
that you'd later press
against me, hip
to hip, tongue
 
to tongue
in the back alley.
 
your wedding band
on the hand that gripped
my waist as if, once you let
 
up, i'd run inside
to laugh at how i'd conquered
the married man, not
 
understanding it was he
who'd conquered me. the guitar
strings have made your fingers
 
adept at strumming. even
from just seeing you
in pictures, i
sing.