Disinterested Poem by M.C. Bruce

How you kiss me now as if you're watching
yourself on television; how you stiffen
when I touch your back in public; how you tense
as if to argue with my smallest observations;

Tonight, when you said it was fun to go somewhere
with me, the tone of your voice was that
of a woman surprised at herself, as if she'd found
some new metaphor in a poem she'd memorized

when a child. Tonight, when we embraced
I found myself suddenly alone with you
but alone nonetheless. I wonder now where
have you gone and why couldn't I come with you?