there were no sidewalks in Bel Air the night I decided to fling my ashes into the sky–
I walked down the center of the street balancing my childlike wishes with the pessimism that was seeping in my bones
I closed my eyes—
jasmine wafting in the air—
and I summoned a picture of you.
“how many wounds have you cauterized?” don’t be mistaken,
my words were no arrows of hate
you see, I’m watching you shrink—
starve yourself of a bond—
“no no let’s not talk of love, or worse, ROMANCE, ugh,
I only feel pity now where my pulse used to be.
a sprinkler dispels the illusion and I keep walking
watching your face
into the night air.
crickets chimed in a symphony, passive.
no, there were no sidewalks in Bel Air that night, only glimpses, shards
of your eyes
puncturing the cerulean ether.