fourth of july

do you want to learn about two strange lives on the fourth of july a year ago? i sat in my best friend's car for the first time and he called me an old soul and it felt like i had aged too much that night, waning into uncertainty and a whole future we owed ourselves. i had brown hair and smelled like chemicals, i was combustible and about to simmer in dusty air and you were there you were there like a surprise! i had pearls on my hands and a bow on my wrist, i knotted strings and tied ribbons on my ivory blouse, dyed my fingers with soysauce and dipped in almond perfume. j took a photo of me with an empty space which you would fill after fifteen minutes, a space waiting for its cosmic presence. your car keys tingled and made noises, and today i'd like to please myself that you chose to sit next to me. was it: i was nervous i didn't know you or i didn't know you so i was nervous?

the night of fourth of july you were already eighteen you knew my name and i said hi, in three hundred and sixty five days i will already have memorized the spaces between your fingers and learnt them from my best memory. and even if you had not spoken i would have searched for your voice and miss it as though it would be heart churning not knowing it or harder to breathe not hearing it. and so, i have tried like i am trying now, to think of the curiosity of your soul one year ago and the same moment today. and i want you to know that it's possible to be kicking and screaming, kissing and dreaming — both rising and falling at the same time, even faster than the speed of light, the same way i'd like to travel to you.