Illahee

3 years on

and still,

eating oranges on your porch,

and the slant of the sun off the water

lingers

I wonder if you remember,
laughing at the flowers I picked.

(you called them weeds)

but they still sat in water

on your kitchen table

that summer was so hot

the nights, too

especially the first

do you remember?

it’s strange to think about,

now

that we almost bought a house

I remember, your eyes, when we pulled up the carpet,

and saw the oak,
dusty, but there

and the weight of your hand

on the small of my back

in Discovery Bay, when we met,

that last time,

for a beer.

3 years on, and still