The Spotted Lizard

I sat on the rock at the lake today,
the wind-blown dance of the waves
sucking at my feet.

The silence of spring rushed
through the dead leaves of fall,
blue sky hanging low.

I imagined the sun warming my right side
was you, leaning close, sharing
the moment of perfection.

The guy with the yellow inflatable kayak
was there, tapping away at his tablet,
headphones plugging his ears.

I could hear you mumble, for my ears only,
“Stupid fuck. Why would anyone
destroy this with gadgets?”

And then you were gone.
The memory of a dream
planted in the folds of my mind.

A plane creased the air
rumbling through the crater
of shimmering sighs.

A bull frog groaned his complaint,
the water not yet warm enough,
the world too close.

You were too close. You saw too much,
held my heart in your hands,
my life beating away.

I wish, some days, you’d given it back.
Life would be easier
if I didn’t love you.

Because today, today was not real
and yet, I can’t erase you
from memory of it.

Today, I sat on the rock at the lake,
with you by my side, listening
to spring pregnant, glowing.

I sat on the rock at the lake today,
and cried.

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