Heavy Hair

The streetlight made her face green.

I didn't think about it, just reached.

Her hair, dark and slick,

swept back from her mouth.

It was heavier than I thought it would be,

damp at the roots, smelling faintly

of something sweet and sour.

Her shoulder shook under my hand.

That small, private service.

It wasn't affection, not really.

Just a shared moment

of quiet necessity.

My fingers, later, felt the ghost of it.