el you see kay

It was you who made me start to believe

in bad luck

when I would show up late for work

with no socks 

because i was looking for a clean pair,

or dirty socks

because i had found a dirty pair.

They had to be the same

because you said so.

And then there were the street signs and telephone poles

that could not split our hands

apart when we walked,

so i would walk sideways
to your side

making a fool of myself

--my hands and feet scattering to the orbit of your hempisphere,

at times to make you laugh

and others to make sure you love me.

And i would rather not see my reflection

than to carry those years of it broken

by the wind

or another ending lease and a rocky Uhaul.

My knees still raise high above the train tracks,

and my breath still holds past graveyards.

And i know why

i put myself through this spectacle;

it’s because i believe it all

because it comes true,

all of it,

not when you leave,

but certainly after.