When I touch you
I'm nineteen again.

I'm on the bridge again,
Looking at the water beneath.

I'm making shadows in the moonlight,
I'm driving three hours to Williamsport
At 10 PM on a Sunday night.

I'm looking at our reflection
In every pane of glass,
I'm ******* in knots
And I'm driving a little too fast.

I'm playing hacky sack
In a big circle outside
Of the Limerick diner,
With all my friends by my side.

I'm staying up too late,
Because to sleep would be a waste
Of the seconds
And the hours
And the days.

I'm surrounded by orchids.

I'm watching fireworks
On a pier down Wildwood,
Where we jumped over
The banister
On the fourth of july.

I'm carrying wood over
To a blazing fire,
I'm playing pool and darts
And I'm not even tired.

I'm watching a couch burn
As Pat finishes his Bailey's.

I'm writing in that notebook
Behind me on the shelf.
I'm savoring a coffee
With a spoon in it.

I'm drawing on the back
Of every paper placemat.

When I touch you
I'm nineteen.

Or twenty nine.

I'm losing the meaning
Of time.