The sky is a non-event.
The last squall is a fading fingerprint
on the horizon. I’ll miss you,
the hunger for rain and time,
the passion for shelter.
We hoarded days
as if they were the answer.
I remember a downpour on the beach,
its roughness falling all over us.
The ocean was a wall so high
it lay down for us
and still we couldn’t see over it.
An undertow of happiness hauled at me.
I wanted to drown
in the hours we spent together.
Every minute was a delicious dead end.
But here I am in the open-endedness
of an aftermath, the walls of a storm
vanishing into thin air,
the final fences of cloud dissolving.
The future is a vague version
of the past. With you
there was no such thing as too little time.
If I look straight at the sun
it becomes a cul-de-sac of light.
Your presence closes in.