long fingers
smooth hands

lychee juice drips
from the cracked skin
of the gifted fruit
in my mouth
beside a trash can
here the players
holler and grunt
their moving shadows
come from court
at light’s end

sticky hands
long fingers
smooth skin

do nothing
but taste sweetness
held in the moment
watching you descend
into the depths of a station
and then
we both disappear
into to the naked faces
of the city
at night’s end

strangers again