the jawline, the tears

looking at the picture
of him working, holding that instrument
i remember his face before my eyes
before his future became painfully obvious
and I ducked out
(it came true)
but none of that is relevant to this moment
to this memory

this memory is of his soul
his soul sleeping next to me
on an impossibly cold night
in the room of a stranger
and of him holding me
fingers alive, touching my arm like a neck
like the instrument I was in his hands

nearly wrecked my truck

I first saw you walking past the cemetary. I was listening to something and I was trying to remember to go to the library first. Time was running out and something was waiting for me (and I was done with two books). I was driving and pedestrians (if not in my immediate realm of driving) were irrelevant . I was paying attention. It just slipped right through my thoughts.

I was driving north down the east alley - does that have a name? The one that runs behind all of the buildings (that restaurant, the new tatoo parlor, the hardware, the 5 and 10 and the library among others). You know, it runs from the ball field to the elementary school. I was running out of time and something made me forget. Turn left when I meant to turn right. Was it just to see you?

I was on that hill next to the baptist church aching to cross Market street. Your gait caught my eye. Walked out of those years right toward me.

they fall, hot

unexpected, knowing
it is only too much for me

the real reason i said no

and i do know after that
you sought me out
we held each other
but didn't take time to mention
the truth
didn't even bother to really touch each other
beyond floating

now, years and years and years
have passed but i still dream of you
dream of you holding me