To Get

He looks like your old roommate in Greenpoint, that summer in Brooklyn when the streets steamed, but he left with the girl with the curly hair and you wished your locks had that corkscrew in them. You tell people you are going, you fake it till you make it but isn't that the way you made it happen last time and maybe the time before that as well. It is how you always go. You never have a proper plan; maybe you land with your knees bleeding but hell if you don't brush your shoulders and walk that road after all.

The light returns to the island in the city, demure sunrise on the church at the top of the hill as you set your alarm and tell him to go home. You fear you missed the party, you fear you'll miss the morning, there is an ache in your belly after breakfast or sunshine, you can't tell the difference, but the curl in his hair makes you think there is summer left to be had. How quickly the days pass. Soon will come fall.

You will stand.