Her hair had gotten longer,
it always did,
those sudden auburn inches
a reminder she was no longer
a part of my everyday life-
its new length always a shock.
Her raincoat matched the pastel
blue of her car, I’m reminded of
when we sang The Decemberist
in our kitchen, that rainy day
so long ago. She was so calm,
fingers danced across the stereo
to find a suitable station.
She asks about my day,
as if she’s just seen me yesterday,
as if we don’t live two worlds apart.
I can only stammer.
She drove us into town,
the new grass just green fuzz in the dirt.
Her legs weren’t stockinged under
a dress, a surer sign of spring.
Hands migrate to my knee, greedily
I grab it, too fast. I should not have been
so eager. Slight smile passed her face
like a wave, I’m taken by the undertow
of our memories.
I forgot our destination, our divide,
let myself get lost in the softness
of fingertips, the cadence of words.
“Boyfriend” rang through her mindless speech,
I looked at her again, the fault
between us reappeared.
I reminded myself,
her hair had gotten longer.