do you remember when you called me from that party
and I picked you up minutes later in my old red Corolla?
I don’t remember what we talked about that night
we kissed in a dugout at the baseball diamond at White’s Park.
do you remember when we met up at the book store
before it was bought out by the Christian company?
we sat on the carpeted floor in the history section, clutching coffees,
we talked until we ran out of words, and then we talked some more.
do you remember when we saw the fireflies at Gettysburg
and it was like the whole world was saturated in magic?
we could barely soak in all the beauty, and I remember thinking
you had never been more beautiful than you were that night.
do you remember when you drove me to the beach in March,
and how the sand was blanketed in snow?
you stood by my side, held my hand atop ice-covered rocks,
and we filled ourselves up with all the hope we found in the frigid air.
I remember these things now, more than the bad times
when did my focus shift from what went wrong to what was right?
I remember our laughter, the jokes that sustained us
when money was tight, and we were growing up too fast.
songs we sang on long car rides,
and the way you always swept your hair aside.
your favorite episodes of Futurama, your preferred pizza toppings,
the slippers I bought you two Christmases ago.
from a distance, I can see you clearly, and I wonder:
do you remember what I remember?
areudirty
titsay
