march twenty-third

it rained all morning

and all I could think about was you 

on the drive there,

everything felt heavier through the fog

but as you waited for me in the tall grass, 

the clouds cleared

      you told me it’s a beautiful day

but I knew 

it was you who let the world have its dawn

beneath the same warm sun

from the corner of my eye,

you shift beside me

 twirl a piece of grass between your fingers 

I lose something you say to the wind 

as you stepped away

dust scattered into the air slowly

leaving muddy imprints across my clothes

I pray you’ll tell the truth

on the drive home, 

the canyon swallows me whole

I must confess

since you’ve been gone, 

everything runs, nothing collapses 

tires scratch against the pavement in the same way

the street light changes when it’s meant to

the flow, the pause—the pain

it’s all the same

but I digress

look, I don’t know any way to make this poetic or romantic 

months later, 

a hot afternoon

when the sun has stayed a little longer

fingers brush against my shoulder—I turn to face you

then the world fucking exploded with glitter