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