Christmas and Bus Rides

It’s raining again
and it makes me think of you
even though we never knew
the rain together.
That roof-shaking shower
that turns the world
gray and black and moody
comes in
on stampede feet
and tramples my jolly.
Those holiday houses
blur behind the drops
and I wonder what
Christmas is like
in Florida.
I can’t imagine
winter in shorts
but so much of the world
knows the holidays as hot
while mine have always
been filled with ice.
And music plays
and I wonder why
it’s sad songs
instead of carols.
And as my hands
plunge into soapy water,
I’m back on that bus
with your words
riding next to me
and sad songs
of loss and longing
pumping through
discman headphones
because that’s how long ago
you loved me.
So I watch the rain
and do the dishes
and remember
how it felt to know
you loved me.

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