The Condition of Love

I will look across the room 
to watch you rub your thumb
on the fabric of the cushion
in your lap, and it will stop there.

The sound of the scrapping raccoons will confuse
you. You will hear them call you names.
I will assure you for the second time
of their benevolent intentions.

This is the condition of love:
charting a new world line by line,
glance by glance at each other’s paper —
two students, cheating on their final examination.

And at the day’s end we will close our curtains,
lock our doors and cancel our engagements,
chattering like cardinals into the night
until we can only repeat ourselves.