Because There's No Emoji for Memory
       

Maybe I'll forget the blue hydrangeas
                                I was promised,
                                                the stoplight foreplay
                at the junction of Hollywood and Vine,
even erase the insult of having been the only one
                                still awake at midnight.
Forget the emojis.
Fuck Bjork.
                                Why do dappled bands of color
                appear in the tiny oil slicks
that drift across puddles on a rainy day?
                Isn't it sad that some loves
                                                are better on paper?
                In our hotel room, his saran-wrapped
orange nesting on the night-stand,
he showed me how to write my name
                in two foreign languages.
                                                Why does the past
                                sleep with us when we hope
the person beside us is the future?
                I was always three drinks ahead of him.
                He said my notebook was beautiful.
We both agreed the bathroom
                                was too close to the bed.

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Copyright © 2019 Lara Egger All rights reserved
from Salt Hill
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission