Poem: 31 lines



The first time I see you--hair
golden in late summer sunlight--you’re happy.
I want to kiss the laughter from your lips.

You don’t want me, and it feels like nothing has before,
because I don’t know when I’ll see you next.

The next time you are still blonde,
but you do not smile the same. I get to kiss you,
you run your hands through my hair, and it
is almost perfect.
When it ends it’s like a sunset: golden-orange and
bright until it’s not.

When I see you next,
I say it’s been too long.
Your hair is brown, eyes
the same gold like the chain I wear around
my neck and we laugh
like we’ve never known laughter before.
We’re happy, I think, and I hope you agree.

When we’re together
the last time,
you’re smiling in the rain and holding my face.
You make promises
that we both know you can’t keep,
and I smile too
because it’s better to pretend while we still can.

You don’t love me as much as you could,
though I love you more than any times since the first,
but it’s enough.

And when you’re gone I pray for a dozen more lifetimes--
a hundred
or even just one.