I think of old girlfriends when I roll over
to smell the empty pillow.
There I am 15 and we are hugging.
I smell the cleanliness of her small blue sweatshirt.
And I remember the lake, and the path we would take to its shore,
where we would kiss
and I would hide my erection.
The sun through the green leaves with white underbellies
and the warm lapping water.
I remember not one thing unpleasant
about the summer where I would ride my bike
across town to swim with her
except I didn't remember then
that it all wouldn't last.
I have to believe that nothing does,
so seize the sand in your hand,
and keep it there as long as you can.
Don't be a mouse, be a lion
