our shoes would get muddy & green everything would be crunchy. I’d see a spider-ghost in your hair. HAIR
Early November
80 MILES
CLOSE
Early November
You had a paper to finish so I said I’ll wait over on the couch & nap while you work but I didn’t I watched you type & pause & put your black hair up. A long ponytail like Sharon said. It is so black! It is like trees in some cold place like New York. It is like God saw you & thought I shall take her hair & dip it into a pottery gloss! & then Hannah will watch her while she writes & everything will be in her hair. I see the whole & new woolen pants in your black hair.
Published by MARGUERITE hnteves@gmail.com © 2018
Are we walking through ghosts you ask me. We’re shopping in the vegetable aisle of Von’s I’m holding one red onion. Don’t you think– you giggle– the world is covered in ghosts, we die so much. I wrap the onion in plastic & you say we should get celery for the matzo ball soup. Celery does not have ghosts I think or we would be wading through them & CELERY Mid November
I am in a Starbucks & you text & say hello, how are you & we talk for a bit, I send a picture of my coffee cup. You say I am getting coffee too! We take sips at the same time. We are warm at the same time & 80 miles apart we are moments together & happy.
We sit & eat & the waiter brings another soda for you & my foot bumps yours & I feel like two boats knocking each other on the sea-top.
I was feeling sentimental so I said Ale! You make me so warm, thinking of pacific storms. You said oh Hannah! Like a quesadilla! I spit out my salt water. Golden & warm on the inside, gooey! You said it with your accent & I laughed but you’re right, I kissed you & there is a half-moon, folded, & wrinkles of your Spanish in my sternum. Sometimes, sometimes I fall more in love with you than just 16 months.
LUNCH
QUESADILLA
Mid November
Late November