I Wouldn’t (couldn’t) Say

Of course,
he wouldn’t
couldn’t
accept my hand.
It levitates, seemingly modest
but altogether a little 
overbearing.
It’s fine, really.
He wouldn’t
couldn’t
have made room 
if he wanted to.
Thus,
I wouldn’t
couldn’t
find myself
drowsy on someone’s left shoulder,
memorizing an unshaven jawline,
tinkering beneath his wrinkled shirt,
conquering 
epidermal canals
of which I am the sieve.
Unwanted filtration, rather
though he wouldn’t
couldn’t
know the difference.
“He” being an authority,
of course.