in a small moment, I think I relived that time on your roof, you taking a picture of my limp body, pretending to be a corpse on your driveway. my eyes traced lines of the pavement, where the car wheels went over them over and over again. it tasted like freedom, like anything was possible, that for one second, everything wouldn't change. this is right before you left to go teach in South Korea, right before you got married. you were still single, I was too, devoting time to each other instead of boys that didn't deserve our time. sitting on the sidewalk, I remember what it feels like to grasp my childhood again. like the moonlight, you were never really gone, just rotating around the earth gaining more perspective with each shine.