Howard Firkin
Young couple on a train and she’s
   excitedly explaining from her book
the science of the patterns he’s
   been using: every gesture, look,

the way he holds his hands when walking—
   she can tell him what it means.
He’s hungry for her, not her talking.
   He turns his body to her, leans

towards her, whispers his demands.
   She laughs, but wants to finish, tries
to make her point, but stops. Her hands
   around his neck are butterflies.