Taken and Delivered

It was a skyline that turned into
the butterflies in my stomach
and that’s how I knew it wasn’t home.
Anyhow,
he took me to the overlook and to the
ice cream stop on a neighboring hill.
We watched 26 different sunsets
, some slicing, some glowing and humming
across green grass and on the deep blue
glass of skyscrapers. He took pictures of me
when my skin hugged orange light and
I made a busy effort to remember how he
looked when pink painted his smile and
tanned skin. All that is left is us in
different places. We are all that is left.
It’s said that every place has their
boring blue Sunday mornings but it’s
not adventure that I’m addicted to
it’s deep familiarity I’m allergic to.
So when I say he looks familiar, I say
he has come to me in many other ways.

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