Tell Me

Tell me,

is it not enough that you mottle my life with Southern summer hues

and floral print sheets that give me flashbacks to lives I lived so long ago?

Is it not enough to have good reason and no reason at all

at the same time

in the same sense

to love you?

When we met, I saw her in you

I saw the wave of her upper lip in your smile,

your crossed fingers dancing along the steering wheel

exactly as I saw hers: from the backseat, head bowed out of view.

Tell me,

is it not enough that I did not inherit her sweeping movements

but rather, I dredge the unbearable truth from your mouth

which I see ebb and flow

exactly as I saw hers: from below?

Is it not enough to refuse an obligation of life: to love another’s blood that is your own

and at the same time

in the same sense

still long for it?

The last time I saw her, you were nowhere yet.

I saw a snarl in her upper lip,

her crossed fingers behind her back.

She never thought I would meet you.

And here you are!

Tell me,

is it not enough?

And there she is!

Tell me,

is it not enough?

When I look at you

I see the wave of her upper lip in your smile

and it is enough to have good reason and no reason at all

at the same time

in the same sense

to love you.

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