romantique

it was a nice summer
one to remember
to remember
and now and then
i take it out
to polish it and
search for cracks

there was a moment
when you crested a hill
and the hot asphalt
around you shimmered heat
(or was that you,
was that you?)
and the scent of you
or that moment
was clean and sweet
as orange blossoms.

the world, even the sun,
captured in that single
drop of sweat on your cheek.

you brushed it away.

of all that we did
that is what i remember most
that feeling of hope and openings
like it would last forever
it would last forever
like it would.

but even with all my care
a bit of tarnish is
inevitable.
i'll still give it a last rub
like a genie lamp
and then, like the rest,
pack it up in
recycled newspaper
for another rainy day.