Orange peels

Nothing else seems more real than the
moments that clung like fresh orange peel
under our fingernails- our citrus summer
filling everything sensual and non-sensical.
That scares me in a way that car crashes
and bike crashes and heart crashes have yet
to do, because nothing is true without you.

It's hard to believe you loved me once

in that sort kind of way

that sounds like a Berkeley stadium chanting 

"I need you so much closer"

sizzling like a hot pan under coolcool water

waking me up like the strongest cup of coffee

smiling into the sharp, softness of the blue(st) day.

Because we're so far away from that now 

and the maps we traced with eager fingertips 

(that raced over one another's skin, too)

are tucked into journals and shoeboxes

and almost, maybe, in-betweens, one days

And our days are done

and the days that have since come, 

are mine to claim- they just don't fit the same.