airy though they are,
I can feel the heft of the cigarettes in my pack of Marlboro No. 27's
cigarettes I hold in my lips to think of you

that fall apart now
burning my wrists and remind me
of the night that Jordan dropped a firework from Wisconsin
into the fire pit
bringing angry tears to the eyes of Eric's drunken father
and your friend
a stranger to me
turned to you and told you blindly
that another fire just as bright ignited
between your hands and mine
and not to let go

I wanted to cling to you then
but the world already pushed us apart

I send messages to you now
telling you about my gas grill
and the new varieties of malt liquor that I have discovered up north
(Schlitz?!)

once you told me that you'd like to get married
when we are both old and alone
driven from the places we've tried to call home
and with my Colt 45 and your No. 27 supported loosely in my hands I said
Yes