YANCY

We touched knees once,

she and I,

long ago,

before such things lost meaning.

We sat together,

in Spanish,

a romance language,

and we wrote notes to each other

in English

and giggled,

and learned much more than was on the curriculum.

We snickered and nudged and nodded at the teacher.

We took turns doing the homework.

We walked together,

talking,

a couple of times,

when we rubbed shoulders, bumped elbows,

stepped on occasional toes.

We shared time.

We touched knees once.