i remember the morning - air like the breath of november
, sky like the jewels of july. i carried your suitcase. i bought you coffee from a vending machine
, in a paper cup with playing cards on the side. you touched my shoulder, to remind me the world wasn't ending, but i heard it sucked into an approaching vacuum. you thought it was the wind through the cracks in the old bus station. i came this far to go back
, i thought.
the night before we left, i to turn back halfway, we lay on the same damp mattress and i ripped the disintegrated blankets away from your body, to take a picture with my mind. and we burned candles in the little closet
and the light on your skin was your halo
and you were all as perfect as i thought you'd be. you always were. you didn't know, but i watched your body until the candles burnt out, till the sun came up, a long time before i fell asleep.
we emptied our room of what had been yours. i watched you fold your shirts. i sat on the bed, ashtray
in my lap, pretending to read a book about poisonous vegetation
. like you, my beautiful flower. i sit here dying from your kiss
overhead there was a sudden buzzy burst and it was time. back outside to wait, where i lit a cigarette as you stood in line, held your hand and we were like people going to a concentration camp
. we stood without moving and i think i was very cold, because i didn't bring a jacket. we stared into the distance. the bus station was nowhere, smooth white grass and a dirt road
through the middle, truck stops and gas stations. i could see the horizon across the parking lot, and your bus clouding the air with its diesel
the man took your ticket and you stood on the other side of the fence, holding both my hands with strength like truth
. 'you're not crying,' you said.
'i only need to cry if i'm never going to see you again.' but when i said it, i knew it was true. my eyes filled up as your bus pulled out. i went inside and bought a coffee for myself, set my backpack beside my feet in a sad lump. i thought about how i'd go home
, and it would be empty. empty
from now on. my bus came and i curled up with some rude woman's seat in my lap. i cried so hard