In your mind’s eye, firm surprise.
I was deer that cross the road
in feeble bolting from the headlights.
Certain that this mess of bones
would melt like tapered candles
burning in the honest heat of dread.
You were loving saucers waiting
for a falling tear to rise.
It was love that bought me shorts.
No it was inner-chimes forgiving
lesson-riding down the hill
of snow-crust curses, forty two
plus many nights of years unraveled.
Leaving marks like rubber bands
around a wrist in blushing red.