Fireworks

We went to
the town fireworks
together.
She and me.
We put our chairs
so close
that our arms
were touching.
Every time she got up
I helped her by
cupping her ass
in my hands
and pushing her up
both of us giggling.
I say,
I’m starting to think
you like my hands
on your ass and
that’s the only reason
you keep trying
to get up.
She smiles,
laughs,
And says,
Help me get up again.
And I laugh too.
And again
I get to
feel her ass
in my hands.
It’s a perfect night.
We talk.
Take pictures.
Watch the sunset.
Sing along with the band,
sometimes well
and sometimes badly.
We dance in our chairs
our movements
perfectly in sync.
I’m glad you’re here with me,
she says.
Me too,
I say.
And I mean it.
And then the fireworks start.
And we oooh and ahhh together.
And then
I think of you
And I am suddenly wishing
you were the one here
next to me
holding my hand.
Or laying with me
on the blanket,
arms tight around me,
sneaking kisses
and touches
in the dark,
coaxing sounds
from my mouth
and throat
that would be
hidden by
the booming fireworks
and only be heard
by you.
I feel myself blush.
I feel her
watching me.
And I know
she knows
I’m thinking of you.
And I hope
she does not see
the single tear
that slides
from the corner
of my eye
down my cheek
down my neck.
She reaches for my hand,
squeezes it briefly,
smiles somewhat wistfully
and says
Thank you
for coming with me.
And before I can respond
she turns her attention
back to the fireworks
in the sky.
I cannot help but see
her shining eyes
and the single tear
sliding down
her softly curved cheek.
I say,
I love you honey.
She says,
I know.
I love you too.
And so does he.
And she squeezes my hand again.
And leans her head on my shoulder.
I lean too so our heads touch.
My tears fall
to her hair.
Her tears fall
to our entwined hands.
And we watch
the rest of the fireworks
together,
she and me,
still and silent.
Afterwords
we drive back
to your house
to get my car.
I do not come in.
I do not see you.
I do not kiss you good night.
I simply go home,
leaving my best friend
to her husband.
And hoping,
like the fireworks,
our tears are done
for a while.
You text me
before I get home.
I look at your words,
romantically dirty,
and meant only for me
and I smile.
My tears are done.
But the fireworks
that I feel when
I think of you
are bigger
and brighter
and louder
than the ones I saw
tonight
in the sky
with your wife
sitting beautifully
by my side.