Left sun-poisoned by a summer, and all its hot spills,
that passed as if in blinks, in stills, not a blur.
They shared spaghetti, sun lotion, pillows and pills.
Outside, trees dropped eaves on their secrets,, leaves purr.
Outside, a clatter of noises, the engines that whirr
living in the belly of some huge city car.
Windows once rushed her to where others were.
She to him: Why would I leave now I’m where you are?
He to her: You are victory won by pillow or by a balloon.
She to him: You are the warm rush of blood to the cheeks.
He to her: You are the first ever step, out there on the moon.
She to him: You are the first touch, after three parted weeks.
He told her that someday they’d visit the mountain’s top peaks
and they’d write their names in the light of a star.
She dreamt flecks of stardust, leaving galaxies on her cheeks.
He to her: Anything’s possible when I’m here, where you are.
She knew that she had talked too much of the past
but it was not because there was something to miss.
She to him: You give me more than I could ever have asked.
You took my ignorance, and left me with bliss.
My imagination at first glance, my breath at first kiss.
She asked: forever? He said: Forever isn’t as far
as where we are headed. / What for? / For this.
I’m here. You’re there. There, here you are