your scruff on my cheek and froth on my lip i wonder what it looks like when people fall in love - how the stories told to friends, then parents, then children, then grandchildren change as memories stay in tact, then blur, then become the only things still clear on soft summer afternoons. i wonder what details are kept secret - like the way birds’ wings flap harder just before landing - and how many times the vision of brushed knuckles and moving seats on the bus will solidify that was it, that’s when i knew it was -