LUCES

.

I saw you in the Moon Walmart,
but I looked the other way.
Ran the other way.
Ducked behind a display
and peeked out at you from overtop.
Today, the sun is hot—
bright and scorching on the flowerpot
overflowing with forget-me-nots
by the end of the driveway that used to be yours.
And as I start my daily chores,
I watch the neighbor who abhors
the heat by the swing that I swore was also yours,
lift his sweaty shirt
to let a soft breeze filled with dirt
kicked up by the car his wife drives to work,
tickle his skin that was badly burnt
last weekend when he weeded the garden
near the fence at the end of the yard and
wonder if you ever drive by. It must be hard and
so, I get it if you don’t. You’ll always get a pardon
because I know I’d avoid it, too.
But still, on each sunny day, I always think of you.
And also of him. And how it really is true
that sadness is rarely blue
but instead, a smile without a doubt—
a sky so cerulean and without a cloud
that for once, you’re actually grilling out
and hoping that that sudden shout
is just you wanting to join in, too.
But it wasn’t and never will be.
On the bus a week later, I sat fifth-seat,
and we were suddenly behind a long car-thing.
Kid on my right asked why I was crying,
and I said allergies. But he knew I was lying
and promised everything would be okay.
However, even though the sun shone that day
and the temperature sweltered even for May,
on the walk home from my stop, it rained,
so I knew it never would.
Everything changed, and while change is good,
that kind isn’t. Our winding road in the woods
sat quiet as it should,
but the wafting scent wasn’t flowers.
Even after all those hours
of the window-open house, it took the cleansing power
of that freak, afternoon shower
to start to rinse it away.
But it’ll never rinse his back that strained
against the push mower as he said hi and waved
just a bit before his hidden disdain
unmasked itself before us all.
No, it’ll never rinse that guy so tall
who taught me to play basketball
and let me pester him when I was small
out of my memories.
So, I get if avoiding here puts you at ease,
and that’s why I’d never let you see me,
for if I can’t seem to erase these things,
I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.