I cast a net
into my memory
looking for the
school of nostalgia
of my lover
they shimmer silver
dart back and forth
teasing me making
hunger grow
I strike
quickly at the nearest
yesterday the day before
I lunge into the cluster
opening my mind
to the far past
and find a party
we went to
two summers
ago

Let me see
his hair was
a bramble
of dark curls
his eyes were
large ovals and
always resembled
a deer in headlights
his cheekbones were
as high as the Alps
then cascaded down
the concave of his cheeks
to his smile which never
frowned always laughing
Let me see
he was
infectious.

We began
as bulldozers
backhoes and
graters
in a box
filled with
sand and
imagination

We found
ourselves
catching
each others’s
eye
at a dance
in a new
sandbox

His hair
like fur
my fingers
tangle it
like poorly
wound yarn

His back
like the state
of Wisconsin
is broad atop
narrow below.

His tie
like an obstacle
or hurdle
finally loosens
by my tugging
drawing him
near, knotted
silk, unwound
it’s a sash of
triumph

His lips
are my medal.