by Lynne Hayes
it was cold when we met,
or perhaps
only northern winds clinging
to loose threads of that blue jacket
you nonchalantly wore.
finding me in a sea of faces
was something divined
on a worn down riverbank long ago
when living was easy, and
the price of a dance were smiles.
i still recall how my eyes fell
into valleys of your throat,
with pulse beats tapping against
the back of my brain,
rearranging a natural order of things.
seasons have changed threefold,
language has flowed
through half suns, full moons
and days without either while
wishes are corked in blue bottles.
i recently heard a hollywood boy
fell in love with a girl by the shape of her neck,
then swiftly took her away to the shore.
do you still love the water
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