Fading Shots

He touched the tip of his burning cigarette

To the pattern on my dress.

(how stupid was that?)

We howled with laughter

Because the circle matched the diameter of the center of a flower.

How intoxicated with new lust we were.

Although there are no reasons

For the foolish path I followed him down.

I was so innocent in the era of free love, sit-ins and dancing in the park

But I wasn’t brave and Singapore Slings were the strongest thing

That passed my lips.

We lived in a small downstairs apartment

Where all we could see was the bottom third of each passerby

When the grass grew too long outside the window

All we saw were knees.

We were so much in love

And knew nothing about each other

And that is how we built our wobbly relationship.

Now those photographs sit in a plastic zip-lock bag

Of Birthdays past, pain and jabs of betrayal, years gone by

Snapshots of our growing dissent and shadows.