You watching trains. Me watching you.

Found.

"I think you are gorgeous. -Josh"

Count them on both hands.

I name everything.

And so two nights ago, when you said there are moments with people
That are pivotal, that crack open the door to love
Let you peek in, get a glimpse of a what-if
And then you listed them: Ocracoke and the starsand, Tigers at the River,
The Drive-in, rooftop nights...
I named them in my head: Double Rainbows.
And I thought about Taylor and I
Standing outside of our old house at Hunter Street
After a storm that felt like the apocalypse was upon us
And I stood on soggy ground in squeaky red galoshes
The sky was orange and purple all at once,
And we. Were. Amazed.
I gasped and pointed
And a double rainbow stretched over the Free Clinic across the street
Like a halo over poor sick angels, spitting chaw and spinning tales
And then I took a picture of the rainbow as Taylor’s halo
And crowned him the Patron Saint of Rubber Cement
But I think I forgot to tell him.
I name everyone, but I can’t tell you what your name is yet.

Here comes the flood, part 2.

When I returned from a bitter cold New Jersey
Obscenely large scarf wrapped tightly around my neck
I fumbled with my keys at the entrance to my apartment
Before looking down.
Mail from Sarasota.
My eyes sparkled, I'm sure of it.
Gleamed like a Japanese cartoon character as I clutched the box under my arm
Raced into my apartment with it, nearly tore it open.

A tattered white box with carefully taped cutouts of squid, sperm whales
Every man I've ever loved has written his name like a child.
It was filled with treasure.
Well, things that only you and I consider treasure, I suppose,
Which only made it better.
Paper scraps, an old book, a coveted zippo, your words and sloppy drawings
A card addressed to Bonnie,
Love Clyde.

You're coming home tomorrow.

I sat at my windowsill tonight
Staring out at the train station that you said you'd like to make your grand entrance from
Your triumphant return with a grappling hook and a tiger suit
Crashing back into my living room, into my world
I lit my cigarette with the zippo and
Rubbed the side of my thumb over it's worn engraving of a ship
And thanked my lucky stars for the flood walls in Shockoe Bottom.

Befriend a hen in 2010.

On the last day of the year
The sky was overcast
I was getting a little sick,
I felt the tickle in the back of my throat.
I had just watched a movie about the apocalypse
As I walked toward the parking lot
The window made a frame around the back of your head
As you walked to your car, arm in arm with a woman I don't know
I recognized your walk
A slight bounce, you walk on the balls of your feet
The red plaid shirt your dad gave you that you wear like a jacket
You needed a haircut.
I watched you turn her and kiss her and my lungs filled up with lakewater
My words caught behind my tonsils
And I choked out
"Let's stand here for a minute, I don't want to go outside" to Matthew
Who politely obliged. Stood as I stared.
On the first day of the year, I realized why I was sad--
I don't know you anymore.