i still remember the specific strand of ****
that we breathed in february of first year
behind my building on saturday night
the first time you kissed me.

it wasn't the first time we had kissed
but the first time you had kissed me.
there was green on the taste of your lips
and blue under my tongue.

i walked by that same smoke bench a few weeks ago
wondering how many others had sat,
smoked the same strain, stolen the same memories.