Leapdragon 2016 - Aron Hsiao Was Here

tomorrow  §

Hey there,
long time no see.
Last time there were drinks and we
were sitting underneath that shuttered window,
the evening storm against the glass,
wise old thing and raindrops, so
blue and made of aging sky.

I remember, smiling, we looked at each other,
shot wisecracks back and forth,
together uncomfortable kisses to pretend
the storm was us, breathless
blue and made of aging sky.

It’s you, right, that twinkle in your eye?

That person who
over the bar room din
had heard my confession,
had seen my sins,
had granted me my absolution,
as I watched the contours of you dance,
cool air between us, conscience
and a glance
that wrapped our hearts together
in gauze and silk and alcohol
and other things
all blue and made of aging sky?

Ah, no. I’m sorry. See, I thought
you were someone else from forgotten days,
weathered and comfortable,
a worn flannel coat for winter play,
where the leaves would reach out from frosted arms,
and the magpies would spy on our every breath,
all blue and made of aging sky.