1. The Grass Path

 

More tiring than the snaking sidewalk ascent built for two is the

return with the ghost of a kiss but sans company over mud

ants bruised leaves by the concrete downhill

through the humid girl-breathed air

on the grass path home.

 

2. I am walking outside where it is

 

raining and the half-lit sky makes everything blue

– the houses and trees and people and

yes, even the light pink flowers which

you commented on, decaying

pleasingly on the wet path-and

clad in cold and a too-thin shirt, the world

seems nothing like and full of you.

 

3. Boat Quay

 

Why do you ask me

if I remember that evening spent

at Boat Quay? Sitting

on the cool stone bench

as the sun set

hands clasped, lungs filled

with the breath of the city:

of course I remember.

 

[later we stood on the light-lined bridge

bodies against the bannister against

each other as we overlooked the water dark

as the sky with white reflections laughing

with more than our mouths we leaned out

over the black-coffee bay into the wall

of electroluminescence (i remember thinking

that the lights-so many lights-looked like bowls

of glowing porridge, food

from a post-apocalyptic fairy tale)

and dazzled by the light we shut our eyes

and kissed]

 

You know as well as I do

that the only thing about you that I could possibly forget

is the shape of your face.