your every breath is a gift

we closed our eyes in that empty pool, while each wave that crashed over us resembled more and more a hand or a hat, a music note or a cup of beer. and as i let my hair run free on the floor of this musical watering hole, my thoughts traced the outlines of your face. blue eyes, green rings, muddy hair: traits reappear like a print through the press, back light on your limbs makes you look 10 feet tall. but under the airwaves of sound, i slept, and she was next to me, she helped me to remember that she was all i needed on most days. but my eyes always turn north from my friends, and i watched people make beds around us. i recall settling into you like they settle into the concrete, and with each pull forwards and backwards there is a sense of carelessness. but we are born again in our ability to forget; calm in that quiet city you said "you gotta leave 'em hanging like men from a tree," these men who have done no wrong like we have done. but i ain't saying i'm sorry baby, i'm saying it's time to turn around and remember what it was like before i was your easy way out. and your call from the couch pulled me back in like a bird's lazy song, and what mistakes were made! but these memories today glide out of me, as you did in your pool full of chlorine and alcohol, like fire you breathed.