How, I wondered aloud to you once while I

carried the flowers of young innocent infatu(love)ation flush against my chest

have you done it?

How do you still smile after so many hands have

taken a rough and angry tissue to

wipe

the smile away?

you brushed my golden bangs away from my forehead

and smiled a secret

No, really

I pressed on,

how?

You responded gently

flicked your hair ever so slightly in the

humid air that settles over Central in mid-July

and hangs heavy in the sky until nearly October

So many,

you told me.

So many people

and some things that were not even

really people

have shuffled and groaned and

broken

their

backs

only to see everything slide like water through

their fingers.

but worse still

were the others who could not

had not the strength

would not

do this.

And you said, framed slightly, framed slightly by the cityscape

and setting August sun

that you kept going for them.

I kissed you.

Right then.

Against the cityscape

and sun.