remember when the sky was green?
we fumbled round in
your garage to find
your dad’s old Polaroid camera
then we climbed and we
climbed, grazing palms,
knocking knees
‘til we were toe to toe on the roof.
the air was static, bitter but
better than the chaos behind
closed eyes; it spoke to me in
strange vibrations and hushed tones
reminding me of your voice. you sighed,
the shutter clicked; light flashed,
you disappeared; and I lamented
to God, begged he make me blind
lest I'd again see a world without you.