Untitled

I used to count
among my failings
this one summer
where I took to riding around
with a boy
in his car
and we would park
on humid nights
around reservoirs
and parks
and defunct offramps
and listen to this crazy Lebanese music
and kiss for hours
with the moonroof open
and the air so heavy
watching the stars
and for headlights
it was
simply
its own
blissful
other world
we were there
and not there

and in the end
its probably fair to say
I broke his heart
years after that
in a marble hall
at a museum
he wanted
that summer
other world
the there
and not there
and I wanted
without having
ever had it

imperfect bliss
ups and downs
and mixed days
and at the end of that day
grounding things
like rolling over
and letting your arm
outstretch
and the back of your hand
fall onto the sheet
and the following roll
and the following hold
and a hand on your hand
not holding it there
but resting on it there
and the warmth
of skin to skin
and the knowing
from that
that even in someone else's sleep
or dream

you're still there.