he looks off to the left and the rest just happens

you and I speak
in unencumbered
secret glyphs
and every finger-tap
every head-scratch
the stretch and awk
of every yawn
communicates
this or that
and so

when the crowd is cold
and trouble seems
to hover like a hawk
over the sun
know that I will feel
the silent hug
you give your arm
and I will talk you
a way out