Frigid

Is it so terribly wrong

to want someone else’s warmth?

I know I’m becoming

somewhat of a libertine

in my old age,

but lately I’ve been noticing

those small touches

that happen in the course of a day.

Other people are so warm.

Sometimes, if I’m sitting close enough,

I can feel the heat

radiating from the denim

of the person next to me.

And then I wonder

why my own clothes

hold all the heat

of a crypt.

Here I am,

in early November,

giving a whole new meaning

to the word

frigid.