September 28, 2009
Do you remember when we were sixteen?
The nights we danced under the stars;
waiting for time to empty the hourglass
that marked our curfew.
That place on the shore,
where we watched the sun set
countless times.
When I wrecked your pickup,
or the times we tripped
chasing meaningless dreams?

I think you fell on purpose
a time or two;
because your father would never have approved.
Do you still wish you listened to who?

The stars fell from the sky.
Every last one.
The last grain plummeted to the bottom.
We’re late.
The tides pulled up around your feet,
soaking your pant legs.
We called a mechanic.
I don’t think we tripped,
it was the iron clasped around our ankles.

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