the intimacy of strangers

that young man
in charlotte
who dressed
like madonna
and danced
a glittering pantomime
and the next morning
all of it was in the floor
but some remnants of makeup,
his lipstick a sticky bouquet
smeared across the pillow
and he said
see?
you didn't need all that
and i said, yeah
i guess not
but i knew i did
 
and outside the sun was an ember
buried in November's chill
and him in jeans and ball cap
and us, cordial as neighbors, nodding,
and there was nothing that couldn't be said
with a dry peck on the cheek