honeydunce

I’ve known you
for twelve years
or for six
or two months and some change
or no change just
whole numbers
the kind of days too big to swallow
left rolling on our plates
balanced from birth to the trash

or we don’t talk
or we do every day
or sometimes when the time is right
when the dusk gets drunk
and hangs around an extra beat
and the sun dipping out gets us thinking
lines end up busy
as we start to reach
at the same time

or you were in my bed for months
or I’ve never seen your room,
maybe we sat there once waiting
and nothing ever happened
and if you didn’t walk out
or I didn’t fuck up
or we were right where we needed to be
listening to crickets and talking about being kids
or we were still curfew bound
kissing as quiet as could be handled
beneath a burnt out porch light

or we were strangers
attending the same event,
playing with the rims of our cups
nursing individual regret

maybe you have no small town
and I will always stink like one
or the same vacant building worries us
or we know the same couple
or we’ve shared Sunday blues
fought similar causes
own symmetry in the way our hearts split

regardless

if this exhale is an offering,
then breathe in to accept it.