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Appa

Appa

he was

what he was

my first love

and i met him

in an airport

in New York

on a rainy, windy day

in the middle of

November

and i didn’t know

who he was

or what he’d say

or if it even mattered

and it didn’t matter

much at all

nothing mattered

but the moment

that moment when

he looked at me

and i him

and everything else

fell away

and i was

all there was

or ever would be

and we got

on that plane

together

and he held me

all the way

and we never spoke

but i could hear him say

all these things

to me

he kept telling me

all these things

and i just

looked at him

as he said these things

these jumbled, rumbled, tumbled

things

that ran together like a sing-along

and i just sat and listened to the song …

his house

he says

is mine

the room

upstairs

is blue

the little wooden bed

is where i’ll rest my sleepy head

the books against the wall

some are short

some are tall

like the dolls with their hair

some are short

some are tall

like the dresses

and the heels

the records

round and round

like the dogs

and their barking

some are short

some are tall

like the tweets

in the cage

like the snowflakes

on the shield

the sword

like the memory

of that moment

the length of all these years

with him, without him

some are short

some are tall

and i saw him

two times more

in an airport

that 5th grade summer

that college freshman break

and both times were

short and tall

TL

Published inTamiko Lowery