he walks away
sits down on the sofa
the white leather sofa I never wanted to buy
I go outside and I don’t slam the door
I stand in the yard
under the sycamore
the symbol of life
he was a senior and I was a sophomore
he didn’t know that I was alive
he had long blond hair and eyes like James Spader
and I loved how he walked with his head held up high
easy and cool like a lord or a serpent
the sycamore bark is mottled and thin
and I loved how his lips were always parted
as if he’d forgotten the question he asked
I go back inside and I close the door softly
I give him a smile like a girl or a servant
come here he says and leans back on the sofa
the white leather sofa I never wanted
the sycamore looks like it’s ready to die
and I go to him now as if I were alive.