Cloudy

I avoid you like a beautiful plague,
Like something that would leech into my skin
And hold itself there all through the summer
Until winter freezes the life out of it.

Something that would burn blue and orange,
Like soft driftwood fires and flashlights in the snow,
Breaking the darkness as your skin grows warmer and warmer
Until you just can’t stand it any longer.

Like the way we kissed before we had even spoken,
Lips awash with obligation,
Curtains, applause, silence.

Life spinning forward in seasick circles.

So we cast our eyes downwards out here in the cold
Under red-washed skies,
Stopping every now and then to discuss last week’s sunburn
Or the efficiency of your car stereo,
Nervous and breathing and faltering,

Longing to look up and see stars.