i spent the summer in pieces. a piece here, a piece there. that summer, we had two full moons, crying your sorries, over and over. that summer, your new neighbors, behind closed shutters and deep balcony awnings, watched as you walked, tracing the morning and evening shade. water dripping down buildings onto the street, and the smell of water street summer concrete rising. bags heavy, morning light, and evening brings the sun’s retreat from your window, like an old friend, or a new game. we played, with pieces missing – a piece here, a piece there. we cobbled together a meal of try this and what’s that. remembering and lying, an old game, a new friend. we said i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry. crying, we caught the moon between our fingers and squeezed for warmth. we climbed aboard, we disembarked. 

that summer was already over. 

it was over.

show and tell

imagine this is what in front of you. what are you thinking about?

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a week later / it is not a flip-book / he thought it was the moon

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