Ancient Relics

Remember the mornings 

of moist white breath

making temporal pillows in cold air-

and shapeless young laughter

flashing echoes against the snow.

There was the frosted world

shining frozen, shining infinite,

slippery and numb to our feet.

Remember the hell-hot-afternoons

of sweaty exasperation

at young and partial freedom--

driving with reckless imprecision

and awful music for summer company.

Mint icecream landing chilly on our collective hunger-direct sunlight for dessert melting us with our gratitude

​​into the sizzling pavement.

Remember smiling hard enough to hurt, pressing permanent lines into our faces. I saw them for the first time today, we must be getting older.

The present threatens us with its caustic concerns of parking tickets and disease--

but face to face

we are always sixteen

or nine

choking still with that

unselfconscious laughter.

Remember walking together in a crowd,

our clumsiness woven and made strong.

If I could have felt your pain for you, I would.

That's what love is. 

These relics of our ancient life

are my currency, truer than the present clock which

points to death.