Flirting with Free Verse:For Sumanta

So I love you the most when?
Is it then,
when in sleep
you turn in need:
dark, lithe limbs entwining,
rasping-
a little rough,
like once-used sandpaper?

Or maybe then,
when you call me again
and then again:
first on that maroon and black 
yesterday's telephone-
business-like trills;
next on my brand new cell-
old Hindi lovesongs;
then again on my iPad-
this time, 'The Moon and I'?
What you say, doesn't matter.
What I hear, I don't remember.
Only your deep bass floats
like fragrant incense smoke
suspended in still air,
long after the phones 
have fallen silent.

Or could it be then,
when reading these tacky poems of mine
you forward them to friends;
a little bit
like the 'showing-off' by proud parents
of a particularly nerdy teen?

Or perhaps it is simply then,
when standing with friends
on an evening road
at its pine-shadowed bend,
you rest an elbow's edge
on my shoulder, content; 
smiling to the day's gossip?