“I can’t believe
     you listen to this song”
she said, stacking forks; dishes; spoons.
Foot tapping
     inside worn out shoes
as Tracy Chapman sang
        about her fast car.
“I used to hear this song,”

Fast enough
    that we could fly away

“and think just picking up and going.
Not worrying anymore
       about any of this.”

Speed so fast
   Felt like I was drunk

More stacking: cups; knives; wineglasses.
And I had a feeling I
     could be someone
be someone,
           be someone.
And as she left
       I wondered
if she would have taken me with her
in her fast car.

We watched a fire
engulf the night sky.
You were not afraid;
instead you smiled
as the flames lapped up the stars.
And for a moment, it seemed as though we'd found daylight--
drifters in the desert searching for the sea.
Violent burst.
I saw your face, eyes rimmed with tears,
happiness spilling down tender cheeks.
I wondered how it was that you were unafraid,
but you took my hand.
Steady; unwavering.
I traced the end along your ringed palm,
wishing to tear down the stars
and keep them within your reach,
safe from the chaos, the fear.
Another year was asking too much;
the pyre had reached us and all we could do was watch.
Gallant glory, brilliant destruction.

In my dreams
     you are the moon;
  you occupy the right side
  of my thoughts.
A synesthete's slumber:
  I see your face
     shining over unsure tides
         and feel glad
         in shades of lavender.

I wish the harvest moon didn't
leave me feeling that I'd never find
my breath. That I could see eye
to eye with what once brought
such joy. Dancing in the rain
kicked up below our feet, waves
crashing around us, we threw
bottles into the ocean
but decided
to save the messages for a sunny day.

Suffice to say
that if you came back,
I would throw open my arms
and dance, love,
     because it's easier
     than falling prostrate
        on an unswept floor.

The door remains unlocked
in case you try
  to come back home
  but have forgotten your key.
     There's one beneath the mat:
     back left corner.
        Although it's possible
       that you've forgotten by now,
           so I sleep easier
           leaving it open.
If someone should enter,
I have nothing to steal.

Some things have changed:
  The cat has run away
       and I've learned
     to find strength
  in solitude.
But I still wear
     that blue dress
  that you always loved,
and I like to pretend
I can still make out your scent
     among the cotton fibers
   as they rub together
when I dance to a familiar song.
And I do still dance.

Once you return
we can re-lock the gate.
The neighborhood's not safe
    like it used to be.

A room full of artificial stars
You held a baby, bounced him
on your knee
repeating the words
"Oh, I do like you."