a dream I had once when a silver moon glinted
across the window, holding a warm running car.
a rocky beat of a Jamaican love song
where a woman’s smoky voice wafted through the bar.
You’re a simple, shining tube of lip-gloss
that was drained and crushed, till the glitter was marred.
And right now
this dawn, till this evening to the beginning of the end of days,
you are all the things I cannot remember.
And everything I’ve changed or left,
might have have been a grain of sand,
washed away from the beach we ran across, sprinting wildly to become
gone from the hourglass.
You have been the porch swing in a melody that I didn’t believe in.
And the thousands paintbrushes of colors I didn’t understand.
Disaster, and beauty and all in that glass case you display me in
Because, in all certainty,
You and I don’t know how to love me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.