I take the last drag of the cigarette, for a second my mind is not weighed
Flicking the end into the snowdrift of others, I exhale.
When I do, I release what you said to me behind the waterfall
And the tree in Miranda's back yard cemetery, on Halloween, where you had me pressed
(You wanted to kiss me but I wouldn't let you)
Playing with a big-eyed, bewildered baby on a plastic slide
Holding your camera for you and watching you bloom
Embracing you on my front porch in the cold, in the hot, in the rain when we had placed our hands on each other's heart, followed by an unfathomably brilliant strike of lightning and a clap of thunder to seal the deal.