(i watched the world spin by
through cloudy, water-spattered glass
yellow then brown then grey
remembering the clumps of sunflowers
growing idle by the freeway)

the day ended the way it began
snow fell in a lazy swarm
and i remembered how in the summer
you always smelled like suntan lotion and soap
i think
i understood this all at one point
you said you loved me for the first time
in a hotel room on the bay
the rain whispered frantically as you kissed me
i wasn't ready
i was never ready

i love you
its so easy to repeat
old mistakes

from where she slept
one hand dangling, sleep numb
curved like a fish
shadows pooled in her palm
like a bruise

there were petals clinging
to the bottoms of my shoes
crushed, still white and oblivious

her eyes shining, hooded with pride
she says
pick it out with the rot
the water breathes
long sighs against the sand
don't you miss this?
the buzzing pulse of the cicadas
as she says
"I'm so abused. Neglected."

the mountains rust
as the year grows older
and i've lost most of the sweaters
that my grandfather gave me
there's a spot that hurts to the whole of me
at a touch