In a tight dress loosely fit

A girl in a tight dress
passed me swiftly in the hallway
underneath my office building.

Her dress was taught, lithe yet
loose; loose enough that I could've
torn it from her with a flick--
and made me want to.

?

Some things communicate with swifturgentsilentmotionthings--
and I wish we all heard such language
daily.

Which begs the questions:
Am I the only one
who picks up radio signals from your heart?
Who detects the faintest wiff of your distress...
...
Am I?

?

Back to the dress,
which I'd like to tear from you with a flick:
can you hear it snatching, falling,

cascading; and you: gasping, your breath
catching, and then relieved? can you feel the air chill
and then, my arms, warm?

?

Can the world dissolve with a harsh action?
Can a rough twist to make it crack and break?
Can we drop all work, and, please(?), proceed to play?

I am full of memories
of the recent hallway
I wish I knew your name.