Falling in Love 2: A Pane of Glass

Are we criminals staring at each other through one-way mirrors?
(I know they don't work that way.
Don't make me say:
I know they don't work that way.)
Are we ready for this interrogation?

Are we falling in love with Oregon in the summer?
Are we propelled by orgasms like fish darting through the water?
Will any of this still be here when the tide is out
And the wind is cold.

Are we mimic octopi
(I know, I know.)
Contorting ourselves into hazy notions of each other's desire?

Yes, this is it:
Gesturing at each other grotesquely
Through mirrored aquarium walls.
Gawked at by strangers,
Separated by glass,
And ignoring the first cold currents
Of the oncoming storm.