August 13, 2009

there it is again;
i can feel it behind my eyelids,
in my throat and in my hands
convulsively closing on –
what?  air, the lining of my pocket
the arm of a chair or
Micah’s fingers, holding on –
to what?  summer time:
late nights and softly whirring fans,
walks on the pier, Alterra coffee
gentle kisses on my shoulder blade
falling asleep all tangled up
i’m still trying to hold on, even as
summer’s slipping away,
even as Micah finishes work
begins to pack
prepares to leave
there’s that prickling, again
my eyes trying to fill with tears
for what?  i’m not losing anything
am i?  he’s still mine, this city is still mine
i ache for my childhood, and certainty
the knowledge that there is no
greater concern than what flavor of
popsicle is available to me.
i want to roll myself up into a ball
and hide my head from growing up
from letting go
(again, and again, and again –
i’m always letting go, or trying to)
this deep melancholy encompasses
much more than the end of summer;
i know that
but i can’t help it, the breaking point
is knowing he’ll be gone in 8 days
i’m blinking, swallowing hard
because the only reason i’m sad
is that i’m so damn happy,
after all.


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