Me and you. Ten years before
holding hands on the pavement corner.
I bend my knees in your high heeled shoes,
my neck at your waist.
We clatter toward home; I yell, you laugh.
The small yet possessive eyes,
the sparkle for you.
A decade away it does not occur.
I remember the loud red polka-dot dress.
You would dance ahead of the glamorous ballroom,
your bold steps stamping on the stars.
I thought of you, sweetheart.
That clear, fizzy love lasts,
before me. The way you laugh.
Here with you, the winking girl, hiding under the tree.
I see your scent, your ghost, your best waltz.
