we meet for the first time
in the industrial kitchen
of just one more shitty job,
but there are still sparks when
our hands touch
i know you from somewhere,
i’m sure of it, and
i wonder if you can feel the way
that the blood in me calls out
to the blood in you
there’s a history there that we
have the power to write,
and i wish we could have been
kids together
before everything became just
a little more than could be carried
without leaving its own set of scars,
i would have liked to sit in the
green grass of a summer day and
pick flowers for you,
with you
and we can still do that, ya know,
be something akin to kids together,
in that carefree way children have
let’s go out and find a big,
grassy hill to climb, and i’ll bring
a picnic basket with the food you like,
and we can sit side by side,
and tuck flowers behind each other’s ears
and i want to meet you,
again and again,
hold your hand and smile at the
way you say my name back to me,
like i’m something,
someone, worth remembering
i don’t just want to grow old with you,
i want to grow up with you, too