sidewalks
brown damp
grass matted
on the earth
like some
old unruly mop.

looking up, at
every stranger
i did pass. he had
your broad shoulders,
plaid flannel, deep
eyes. forgetful,
foreign.

i daydreamed
that we could be
together in a secret-
because it was all i
needed to imagine
the desert doesn't
exist anymore.
no more navajo
blankets. no more
daniel johnston.

just the wooden planks
and the chipped paint
above and below your
spine- balancing
parallel to mine-

and later, the world
consumed me. until-
i watched you
in the mirror,
pretending
you were much
further away.

and yes,
it was easier.
it made your
face go down
smoother,
in the etchings
of my mind.

the curve
of your neck
illuminated
by the sun
setting
behind you-
faking
a silver lining-
along the speckles
of your hair-
much shorter
than i remember
it.