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Sestina of Memories
Remember when
we first met each other
and we would dance all night,
then sitting on the floor and holding hands
and listening
to the sound of the drum beat.
I remember the beat
as you played the drums, when
the band performed Wipe Out, listening
to your solo, knowing no other
drummer’s hands
would feel my heart pound all night
long. Remember that night
when our car beat
a path to the city, my hand
draped over your neck, when
daiquiris and beer mellowed another
weekend of kissing, talking, and listening.
Do you remember how we listened
to crickets chirping at night
until the weak hours of the morning, while other
people were rising to get ready for work, beating
themselves over the start of a new day, when
all we could do was smile and hold hands
from lack of sleep. And finally, you hand
me a cup of coffee, while listening
to your favorite rock station in the background, when
you tell me your plans for tonight.
I say I’m going to call in to work, beat
the sandman to another dream-filled day. Other
friends of yours will meet other
friends of mine to raise hands
and glasses as we hang out at the nightclub, my beet–
red lipstick glimmering as I listen
for the words you will announce tonight.
Finally, our friends burst out asking, when?
When that day came, it was like no other
and when that night came, our bodies were like hands
intertwined while listening to the sound of the drum beat.
(2011)
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