Pink Elephant

She was the centerfold

of some other guy. I try not to picture

that pink elephant,

the way she colors me nostalgic.

*

She melts in my mouth,

coloring my cheeks pink

with each shot,

loosening my tongue.

Between love and regret,

nostalgia spills

from my lips.

*

Mother drove us down puddled streets

past the greyhounds

across from Circus Circus.

I asked her once:

“Do they have elephants and cotton candy?”

She laughed, and said

Ohh, there’s lots of candy.

*

Years later, that elephant sat

between me

and my high school crush—

the motive for my enrollment

in photography.

With my mother’s hand-me-down

SLR, took pictures

that kept her around.

*

I wanted her,

but she liked goths.

Jealous thoughts

overexposed in the dark room,

watching her figure develop.

*

She’d call about shadows

on her bedroom walls.

I helped her see

the light and contrast.

Just a friend

out of focus.

*

Everything has a cost.

Haggled my love away

for a pretty penny.

She was priceless,

but priceless buys nothing.

*

I think of her

and regret:

selling that camera

at the flea market.