An indelible line was drawn.

 Should I forgo the dreams of years ago?

The time you paused; twice stopped, you said,

"This is not what I imagined of you."

You were a season I did not expect.

Should we play on the way the world has changed?

Any kind of goodness won't make us kind or good

All your efforts to save the whole have come to nothing.

Here, at the end of everything - I only remember -

The way the uncertain smile sits on your face as I drift away.

A good, good drunk.

When the mumerade you were and what bands you stanned mattered

your trash television and your up to date musical dictionary

( in one ear and out the other )

Loved me. Autumn your fingers through my hair

We crooned out Confessionals and Dylan and Love as these things were
Handles of Morgan and fancy beer

We argued whether these were drinkable and whether Beatles were anything

Hold my hand - I fall in love - Very often - I still do

When I was younger (15, and 20, and 25, and 30)

I thought that love because the way that light attaches to a girl

( in one year and out the other )

Was very young of me - surely I would grow out of this

This imagining a lifetime with you.

Now between moments when you slip into bed and when I fall asleep

I find that older I still dreams those dreams

I lean into - falling in love - often I still do

That blanket on the lake

The green grass tickling our feet

As I drift fingertips up to your knee and back to you.

Reading passages you have already read me

You remark - you always remark - we should be getting back

To somewhere because I'm getting too much sun

And kissing you too much.