I don’t know if you remember but
once we went dancing
in your bumpy green front yard
and laughed at all the passing cars.
They were in such a hurry
and the warm swirling air
couldn’t hold their burning metal as closely as it did us.
We didn’t stop brightlight spinning until the sun
became the moon
even though we knew that the moon was just as beautiful.
Next time, we said, and under it whispered
and questions we knew could only be true.
The grass tickled our faces
and the moon had never shown so bright.
We took its glow as a promise
that life might stand still, just for a few more years.
It didn’t, but that night
we watched the white moths flutter in slow motion
and were sure our hearts stopped beating.
I don’t want to add you to my list
of all I’ve lost.
If I could,
I would race for a plane so I could paint the sky
a fluorescent pink lightning cloud sunset,
all so that I could run back to your house and point,
say, “look. The moon’s almost out.
Let’s go dancing.”