Sand

My jacket was hot from the sun when I put it on, covering the shoulders that drive one man crazy, and I forgot what I remembered to forget last time, hope it doesn't matter. I'll never know what you forget to remember, so I remind you of the moments I can't let die. You bring yours to the party: plaid shorts, a black lace bra, dancing behind me at the Soul Bar, makeout sessions in so many cars. Chick-fil-A will always be special, marked as ours. The train and the shotgun, the hayride and the fair. Why did we fight everything so hard? When did we learn how not to be enemies?

Have we paid the bills? You know I'm not going to clean up as well as I know you won't be on time. I know you'll always open me, even if I'm not present. How did the sun come to live inside your eyes? Did you have to break it into individual rays? You probably don't know, maybe think it always lived there, warming you against the chills I give you, whispers across your flesh, breath on your skin, lips to lose yourself in.

I have no idea where it goes when it leaves--I've never been allowed to follow, always on restriction, sneaking you in so you can sneak me out.

Sneaking belongs to us as much as anything can.

Don't put the daffodils in the ditch, plant lilacs there instead.

keep the river in the valley, tell the mountains they can

NEVER

go to the beach, then laugh at the ocean

pounding sand.