Looking into, looking through
the mason jar
             half full of water
he says,
             I never knew I could feel
             such grotesque feelings.
He takes a drink
             and a bite of the pizza
             we ordered after dancing
as if the water was holy, as if
             the pizza was my body.

If you can call it dancing —
             the fingers of our hands entwined
             and moving up and down
laughing
             I felt his breath, as we turned
             in circles and arcs
coming in close
             pulling away, acting crazy —
though we didn’t kiss
             we did, almost.

And I don’t want people to look
at the glass of water, or the pizza
or the beautiful sweat of his upper lip
and think about me, Why him.

I want them to look
            at the tree I planted in his name,
to say, Here’s some shade and
Christ,
             I never thought
             we’d get any relief from this heat.