It’s not my birthday that ignites me to tell you
that September is my favorite month,
it is how leaves begin to fall
and lovers stay the same
with each passing season.
It is holding hands at the park
crunching on leaves with footprints
of love. It is how trees stand still
under volcanic ash. Walks to
the top of the mountain,
drinks at Scarlet’s,
supper at Globe.
I remember every night
with you as a new falling
of
in and out of love.
(She told me she never loved him
and I could never get how
she stayed with him
for a lifetime of hate.)
I wanted him under me
when I first noticed him
in his Miami Vice jacket
and long curly hair.
It’s the way of my heart
it leads me,
it destroys me,
it abandons me
in front of food trucks
and tells me “choose”
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