days we kept

the collar of his polo shirt,
wrinkled on the right.

sweater falling at the hips,
sticky in May’s uncertainty.

chasing after fast balloons,
ankles caked in mud.

and we would walk to the park,
annoying the placidity of flat trampolines.

we would answer questions
about crimes yet to commit.

we would argue,
we would cry.

we would wander
beneath the roof.

wincing in droplets of humid truth,
accepting the grass time left us.

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