new love stories (from a long time ago)

1
You pulled me onto the sand. We were drunk and you lay down and then grabbed my hand and pulled me on top of you. And you were wearing a dress, a black dress, and a new black sweater, and they got all sandy, the dress and the sweater. Even your hair got sandy, but you just lay there like you didn’t care at all.

I was so taken by you at that moment, the way you looked, the way you didn’t care. All I could say was, you’re so beautiful, and you laughed and said, please, I dated a writer before and did not care for it.

2
Or like when your roommate’s brother visited and we tried mushrooms and I freaked out. Do you remember that? I was sure I was going to die, and then you said, It’s okay, Mote. I’m here

3
The way you speak to strangers, fearlessly, like when we were in line behind that woman eating raw rhubarb and you said, excuse me, can I have a bite of that? And then she broke off a piece and you chewed it thoughtfully.

4
After the Christmas party I double-rode you down the hill to your apartment. The wind was coming so fast by the time we were at the bottom, and you pressed your nose against my back and kissed me on the shoulder.

5
The nights you are in the city and I am back home at East Greenbush, how you call me on the way home from the bar. You are drunk, and you tell me how your boots are not suitable for the icy conditions. Or that we should drive to California together. Or that you met a woman in the bathroom and gave her your sunglasses so no one could tell she had been crying.

6
When I sleep in your bed I can self-regulate perfectly. Your window is cold and you are warm, and when you fall asleep I can always situate myself so that I am at exactly the right temperature. Some nights I hold you closely. Others I can make myself very small against your window.

7
The time you made a passing joke about how Milton, my goldfish, was ugly, and then you could see that I was hurt. It was a little thing, too. It was a silly thing. But you still knelt down by his bowl and looked in at him and said, No, I'm only joking. Sorry, Milton.

8
Mornings in bed when I would have to get up, how you would climb on top of me and put your arms around me and say, I’ve died. I’m in rigor mordis.

9
The way you came to my concerts and would play tic-tac-toe with yourself in the margins of the programs.

10
How strange and wonderful your text was that night in December after I drove to Rennselaer by myself: mote. i called to see how you are. it was very cold today, and it made me miss you.

11
When my mom was sick and you came to the hospital and just sat there with me, only getting up that one time to buy me skittles from the vending machine.

12
This line, from the ending of your poem: “I still can’t believe there was a time I thought I’d never be able to tell you I love you.” I know it wasn’t about me, but I liked to pretend.