shutting the cupboard, i realize the day
july third, you know i’ll never forget
i wish i remembered the restaurant like i remember your face
like every sentence said and every current through my head
a time of glory and pain and tears of tar black rain
i light my candle, reflect on the past and just ask, please not again
my last fuck — out the plane window going a few hundred
how i tossed and turned and ran through thunder
you could hold me under
but you always knew i’d drown without a frown
your face, a laugh and nothing more
now i’m standing outside the liquor store door
all fours — throwing up once more
back in the day
when i realized kodak rhymed with poem
could i write with photos?
i scroll through my phone, but realize there are none
your face had already been stained in my brain
always played with hopes and i’ll never forget words
how we grew up a mile apart, yet ended up in the same town
the way you left that night and still ended up in my arms
how we even drove the same car
the way we came back again, same place and the same day
only a year apart… the way you were standing at the bar
but lunch, how you spoke your words
how you said you knew i would’ve driven anywhere
that you knew i always cared and how i always stood there
but what was sad is how we both agreed that not now, but in time
maybe then will be a good time
that maybe then we’ll both use the word “mine”