Twin Peaks Juxtaposition

I want to climb like
wisteria
into your arms,

because my friend
was on a bedroom floor
with Twin Peaks in the
background,

her hands on a boy's
chest, her hair in her face,
the mid afternoon
heat slanted into
the space.

I was folding towels
and dreaming
of pushing you against
the wall of silver washers
and kissing you deep.

Because a friend 
sends photographs
of herself
into compromising situations.
And we conference
on the shapes and
sizes she gets
in response.

I was driving too fast
on my way home
with all the windows down,
the wind roaring to deafen
my overactive mind-
imagining you with
girls hanging off of your arms. 

My friend, bare-chested
made eyes with a boy
while I just hung on
typed words that
didn't have what I needed.

She kissed neck and
jawbone
and I am waiting for 
someone to come home,
waiting with false hope
for more than holding.

Because you make me 
feel safe
even when I drive sixty over
hills,
even when you're miles away,
even when my friend
is rolling around in the hot
afternoon.