your mountain-top cheekbones were all i could see;
if i swallowed your entire face: your pudgy nose, whitewater eyes,
small lips, and your mocha frappuccino skin,
i couldn’t have walked away with aspirations, professed comfort
for the next few months.
when we meet again, under growing poplar trees
we’ll love. love like there was never a goodbye,
like there never will be one. two planets dancing
in their shared, ephemeral orbit.
i walked away from you, and
my heartbeat sped faster than harley motorcycles
swerving down route 66, beside roads that
are as lonely as the moon in downtown skies.