Tuesdays

On Tuesdays, I can take her out
Let her heels hit the pavement
And watch the street steam
Ride up her legs

I can pick her up early
And drop her off late

I'm allowed to get up to the third step
On her stoop
And kiss both cheeks
While I hold her face in my hands

I can drive back to my place
Humming along to the radio
Not bothering with the IPOD
Because I'm not sure what I wanna hear

She let me talk a little bit more tonight
And by that, I mean
It was okay to talk
To share
To show a little bit more

On Tuesdays, we've been going out
Losing touch during the week
Two full-time people
With full-time jobs
That end around midnight
When the laptops close
And the books by the bedside table
Remain unread

So many times I glance over
And notice my phone
Refusing to blink
To say--She thought of you today

But then I didn't call either
Did I?

But I still thought of her
I think of her all the time

On Tuesdays, we eat Italian
And drink red wine
And I try not to ask her
To come home with me

She gets me once a week
And she doesn't ask for more
I take it, and I hate it
But I can't find the time
To demand she do the same

But Tuesdays I can manage
I keep them holy
Like sacred days

And I notice she wears the same shoes
Because she sees my eyes
Watching them walk down her stairs
Slipping into my passenger side

She gives me every Tuesday
And every one is pristine

Now, if there were more

If only there were more