Sweet Apple

Dusk mosquitos have forced
us inside where we sit on
my sofa, each of us with
our wine coolers. I don’t know

yet that you won every footrace
in 4th grade gym. You don’t
know yet that I want to move
more slowly than you. I listen

as you describe apples so sweet
in high school, you’ve never
found any like them since. I
want to say I loved a man like

that once. I want to believe you
will give me your arm when ice
covers the sidewalks come winter.
I want to tell you I’m not casual

in love, but instead can only find
the word, “Stay.” You stop talking
about work and look at me as
though I am from long ago – so
sweet that I may never come again.

 

 

 

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