across that pavement still warm from the new spring sun
your body saunters; shirts that smell like clean cotton
and hands that saunter across my trembling ribcage that for one
moment today feels actually weightless.

wrapped up in your arms and your blankets,
I think of nights when we walked downtown and saw those city lights that
drew me in like a moth to a flame with a camera;
bright rectangles softened by blue black that drew me away for august.

you kept saying that this wasn't a mistake.
liquor soaked through the phone lines and bright almonds
in my face cried out; I loved you and the way your hands felt
so cool when I sat on that warm pavement one terrible night
crying for everything I was worth because I didn't want to lose you
in august or september or ever.

I loved you, and you didn't even know what you were saying.