Midtown week—All Pack in full flutter,
           lanyards like tiny anchors,
          my suitcase zipped with yes.

Last night we did it right—
             STK and steak.

You slipped into the Owls’ orbit at Loews
    until the bar clicked dark—
    then up for a nightcap,
    the slow-grin kind,
    snuggles measured in steady breaths…

    and your signature exit before 1 a.m.

    (promise to Coal kept, promise to us kept)

Today is microphones and calendars,
                   decks and demos,
  me wearing your laugh on my cuff
                  like a lucky pin.

About tonight:
      there’s a table at Park I’ve been saving
      since the day-before-we-were-we,
      when “One Night” chose the couch

      and we called it a raincheck.

Let’s cash it.

Let’s make the lights on Monroe
      do thier soft-focus thing,
      let the park breeze edit our sentences,

      let a bench pretend it’s reserved.

If the sky argues,
   we’ll move the ceremony indoors—
                        two stools,
                        same spell,
                 raincheck honored…

         when your hand finds mine.

You said you took tomorrow off?
(that word tastes like candy ^)

I’ll finish the panels,
      fold the lanyard,
      meet you where the grass begins
       and the woodgrain shines.

Bring your nap.
I’ll bring the yes.

Bring your almost-smile.
I’ll bring the part that turns it into always.

We’ll order small, talk big,
      kiss like punctuation,
      ride the few blocks back…

      anticipation a ticking metronome.

The promise from before we met?

It’s still legal tender tonight—

            …raincheck redeemed.