My peripherals caught a small, translucent, tan spider,
weaving its way down my hair of the same color.

Quickly, I redirected its descent
away from my body
in an attempt to vanquish it.

Even more quickly,
the crusader pushed away from me
and rappelled to the countertop.

I then had the advantage of the higher ground
and could calculate its next move.

Deftly,
she pulled a fisherman’s line
from her abdomen
descending down the kitchen cabinet drawers
one
by
one.

At drawer number two she met her end on the bottom sole of my high tops.

Although she outplayed me,
moving and thinking faster than I,
she couldn’t compete with my comparatively large size
and my even larger pride.

That I might become her yacht,
ferrying her around to the vast sceneries of the world,
I could not stand.

My knee-**** reaction to ending her
was in reality
my fear of her ending me.

And with this in mind,
I crawled away.

Niño Pinto remembers me.
“Can I hug you?”
“Are you still writing?”
He nods in broken English.
“How do you like high school?”
“Still writing,” he says.
“Still writing.”

A cheap notebook
filled with poems past
never given a second look.

A second meeting almost passed,
reminds me simply that
moments stand still, time moves fast.

The growing grass blade
as dew settles in morning
must bow its green head

laden with rain
an american robin
labors through
the sepia horizon

Who forgot to put the moon to bed?
For it is day
and still he looks at me.

I am nothing
more than a reflection
that has animated itself over the water’s surface

But the picture is so much clearer

like water
I poured myself into her until she was overflowing at the brim

like reinforced steel
I bridged my heart to hers and welded myself to her soul

like the sun
I filled myself with light to cover her darkness

like a blanket
I shielded her from the harsh world underneath the covers

like magnets
I orbited her aura until we inevitably collided

like a seed
I felt myself growing up from her

Then, like an idiot
I could tell she felt nothing.