The morning smelled of 1987

As thirteen years of locked

Down breaths dug out of the ground,

Brittle with faraway radio

Mists and slow to stretch

Time.

Trees unfolded television

Smiles until asphalt vibrated,

Cracked with a voice,

“Remember Reelfoot? Three days

The Mississippi ran backwards.”

With no time to wait

For a lake, autumn crashed

Our hammock scene,

Movie kisses and May

Whispers .

“Will you take me to see

The stars someday?”

Yes is all I could answer

As electric fingertips

Brushed back my hair

And I felt for the first

Time the words,

“Don’t worry.”