We can never go back, never return.

You smile as you scoop sangria from the bowl,

finger my albums’ battered covers.

We can’t recall what it is to know

and not know.

 

Curtains around the bed make cataracts

of light, mist of morning. The dip

your side of the bed we both ignore.

And I believe in your youth:

the way your hip curves lifts my heart,

it covers me.

 

The streets are out there still,

but taller,

more respectable, wealth poured into pools,

piled into garages. Schools

are recruiting blithe children, the hills

behind the town are blue, the ocean

beyond endless.

 

And you in my chair, rocking, poised

in your infinity, that sudden smile

of yours flickering like firelight

as you hold out your smooth arms,

taking advantage

of my desire

for innocence.

 


from GDS#30