hands entwined

our hands entwined
as we hold the pages
of newspaper over our
heads to protect us
from the sudden

we had only spoken
a few times, in the
elevator, little niceties
to pass the few seconds
before reaching my
floor, “have a good day”
and a wave

now we’re drenched
newspaper tattered
hands still touching
as we just stand and
stare at each other
in the pouring rain
then laughter, lots
of laughter, like we
have never been
happy in our lives
until now

— GB

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