i.
my best friend, far away, told me to write a poem
about space, and time.
she wants it in a folder the color of
secrets in soft glass bottles.
everyone is always wanting something.

ii.
so i'm thinking about Japan, a place in space
where girls in Tokyo wear miniskirts that show
young legs, and psychic cats climb garden fences but
only in the suburbs.

while i'm thinking about those Tokyo girls i am wishing it was
last summer, (a time)
when we counted new freckles like
uncharted islands and laughed
when the cement lips of my father's pool
burned the backs of our thighs.

iii.
at night we drove higher, leaning like heat-seeking missiles
towards the mountains, where the air breathed warm and
heavy down our necks and music always sounded
better, looking down at the lights of the boats on the water and the lights
of the bedrooms of the boys in the hills and you were so bright, with your
bleached hair like radio wire.

iv.
that fourth of July you said sorry,
for standing me up (again)
for that other party, with those
emptyfaced girls.
i should've believed you.

v.
E., i don't have enough time
to finish the assignments i have been avoiding
like the gym, or the dentist, or love.

vi.
E., there is too much
space between us.