remember those days?
(so many millions of miles away now… )

of slow dancing to patsy cline
in small-town dive bars and
grieving to great ghosts..  

of singing
juana molina refrains 
across the moonlit lake
at midnight,
rain pouring down,
baptizing us
in the sacredness
of our 
shared soul-cloth..

of drinking cheap liquor and 
practicing ways of
caressing the 
melancholy because.. 

that was all we knew.

…


how beautiful it was,
my love,
painting melancholy
with you.