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.