I was just thinking about you,
about luminescent madness

back when there were so many words
and so little time
(this was before time became
a bruise-colored ocean, before
confessions had statutes of limitations)
and stories were walls we scaled,
barefoot, on shared nights.
The old sky would profess jealousy
for the new sky and steal
the surging honesty from our lips.
The distance between us was never
greater than what last sacrosanct
self-promise was left for us to break.
We exulted in being
two archetypes on fire,
we courted the end like
a fierce embrace in Argentine tango
we’d color too far outside the lines
the empty spaces became our empire
where the sun never set,
our breadfruit tree,
our king size bed.

I was just thinking about you.
How the arrival of your ship
on these shores was always
synchronized to my seasonal
need for an intrepid rescue.
How you refused to take advantage
of that, but I never left you alone
and went a little too far
to prove I’m not the victim type
and please feel free
to treat me recklessly.

Life was too sweet to be wasted.

Loving you then was a letter
I was writing to mornings
when the old sky no longer
covets what the new sky has,
these days when honesty
is a white veil
that has survived
several wash cycles.
Billowing around me,
anchored to shore
and so familiar
the games of possession
we loved to play wouldn’t
recognize it at all.

“Jessica + Igor: Engaged in Portland, OR”
by photographer Dina Chmut


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