for the I love you scrawled in golden dust
on the hood of yr car. for yr car that got
re-possessed. for well whiskey & regrets,
the time they did lines off a Robocop VHS.
for hazy nights with revelry by bonfires
carefully fed. for embers smoldering at sunrise.
for qualitative vs. quantitative. for long hours
wasted, in a little, green plastic lawnchair.
for wind that sings in coniferous boughs,
& this lovely epitaph we carved in the bark.
for subway cars & automated doors,
the rats that scurry along yellow rails.
for mountains of tires on Cleveland streets.
for road trips & rumble strips. for roadhead.
for bathing suits sopping on linoleum tile.
the sunny beach and yr feet in chill tide.
for belgian waffles with blackberry compote.
for sycamores, & syrup, & sex, & thorns.
for the Choir Boy vinyl that haunts us now.
hydrangeas & captures on an old DSLR.
for the lovely flick of the hem of your dress
in sunlight filtering through half-turned blinds.
for lavender stains on yr overalls & lips
in brambles & thickets with barb-pricked skin.
for the sunflowers you planted that never bloomed.
for all the seeds you tended that never grew.