TRYST

how the gods conspired
to make you
just so
and put you there
and how the hum
of the window unit
was the only sound,
and outside,
nothing --
just that old trailer
in a field of weeds
and even the moon hiding
as though to offer us the night
and i think we could have
covered the windows
and hidden the clocks
to make it last
but the sun rose
and the day began
and we would
go our ways
like the strangers
we were