gaping spaces bleached with sun
and ice in paper cups
drizzled with fake fruit
far too sweet.
you were my companion,
but the theater was closed.
four hundred and fifty stairs to the top,
but empty rooms
waiting to be filled with sighs.
river plants hanging low
tried to stop the boat,
and if we weren’t careful
the sky would swallow us whole.
lines burned into my back
made my eyes heavy,
made me want to sleep in dark
air conditioned bedrooms
where we could build secret worlds
and live there alone together.
waiting on the curb for your train to arrive, a woman walked past who looked like she came from another world. a second later she was lost among the cars, the people, and the late afternoon sun, all begging me to remember them just as they are now. they wound themselves around me, and I got lost. the best kind of lost. the kind where anything can happen, like you might turn into a bird or I might already be a bird or your train might come in like a purple summer breeze that brushes the hairs on my arms.
or it might never come. I hung in limbo hoping it would never come because once you got here it would be only one thing when I wanted it to be everything. but you did get here and you told me about an art museum you visited, and while we walked I drank sake from the bottle.
and we are not in love! oh, but what if? one, two, three more drinks and let’s pretend. stand closer. talk softer. breathe faster. let’s pretend. and I will go home alone tonight and sleep well because we have a small house by the sea where we watch the stars come out every night. sometimes we touch hands, and most of the time we are happy. there are still some weeds growing in the garden on the side of the house, but we will get them tomorrow.
box of mangoes
my eyes and pay the woman I
wonder how I’ll get them home
hours to kill
open catching sounds
radio from somewhere says the game is tied
reach for me don’t reach for me
is what evening is
oh, say there’ll be rain in the right season