Summer in Victoria. You
were wearing your camouflage hat.
I was wearing my sister’s sweatshirt and I hadn’t washed my hair.
You were pregnant
(for the sixth time and I looked away when you told me

I’m sorry)
and looked like shit. You were beautiful.
Your hands were cold. You
hadn’t eaten in three days. I gave you the last of my money
and made my excuses.
You thought I wasn’t looking
when you threw away your sandwich.

You told me you ate the whole thing. I
(screamed inside my head and thought about hitting you)
smiled.
“Good. I’m glad.”
You laughed. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” I didn’t tell you that you’d thrown away
the last of my money. The birthday present
I never got for my sister. Never would get.
Not for a while.
You didn’t need to know. Your hair was greasy
and those tears in your eyes

they weren’t from the sun, were they?
I remember. Don’t think I don’t.

You told me about her. The girl
on that band trip. The one who passed out. Steph.
You talk about her the way I wish
you talked about me.
You call her beautiful. I want you to call me beautiful. I want-

(you)

-but I don’t tell you what I want because
(nice children don’t)
it’s your story and I can pretend that you’re thinking of me with that look in your eyes.
“I’m going to ask her out.” Smile.
“I’m glad.”
The sun makes my cheeks too hot but
it doesn’t seem to touch you. You’re too cold, always have been.
I go to put my arm around you
warm you up, and you flinch away.

You don’t see the expression on my face. I’m glad.

Four hours later, when I’m limping and sore and
walk by leaning on the wall, when
I sit down on a bale of hay and stretch my knee out,
you find me again. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

You sit down beside me. We won’t see each other again,
for I don’t know how long. Long enough.
You touch my shoulder
and I try not to turn around because if I do
(I am going to kiss you)

I am going to kiss you.

That’s how the summer starts. You and I
standing behind the barn
holding each other, crying for different reasons while I wish
that I was something more then your rock
and try not to focus on your lips.

“If that thing with Steph doesn’t work out – I’ll call you.”

Smile.