I skip lunch—

each day I walk to you,
sitting soundly by the shores
of thestony lake.

My voice, quivering, reaches out to you—
(yours never falters—you bark "hello" back).
I sit, in heated silence. Refuse to watch you as I wish.
My presence causes you strain;
You tell me to go.

Sometimes, I kiss your cheek.
Sometimes, your lips brush mine
(moments of absolute clarity and
Daylight eyes of swirling fire—
I say, "I'll be late."
Youask meto leave.

In fall, the grass is smooth, still full of summer warmth.
In winter, it'scrisp and thin—
we sit on our hands,
facing away from each other.

Together, we watch the seasons
(and I hope that like the sky and the earth,
some things between us will never change).
Our lake swirls, turns frosty, calms in spring.
(I know, that people on breaks shouldn't kiss—
and is that what we're on?
A break from each other?)

One day you look at me,
(your eyes dark and wide) and say, "I love you."
Your face so authentic—
the words sticking in my throat as I cry.

I turn to leave, but you say, "Don't go."
(Sometimes in the end everything is just fine.)