“After class, if she got out early, sometimes I'd catch
her
downstairs writing up her notes. And she'd smile
and I had to bite back every single corny thing I'd ever
wanted to say, like: All off me is an invitation reaching toward you, or
my fingertips ache where they haven't touched your skin or
I hear the promise of us in the crescendo of every ballad
and maybe I was supposed to be a bachatero instead of a pilot
because all I had were torch songs for a girl I barely knew.”