under soft sunlight
at the beach we left
in seven days,
on our vacation three years ago,
the boat is collecting rain.
the weather is like
air conditioning
and i've forgotten
things.
wonderful things
have happened to me
and i've been happy;
i've been
weird.
i'm never used to
the keypad
and i've found
old conversations.
the color in the drawings
change all the time.
you
and the vacation,
are blurry.
i don't like
the playoffs anymore
and i don't
mind you smoking.
it's been a long day
and three years —
lazing around
in an evening-balcony
's unremembered
yet
the boat
at the beach we left
is withering
but still
collecting rain.