bailey maris

I thought i saw you on the train today.

“did i fall when i first tried to walk on

“And the ambulance went wee-ooh wee-ooh

“I liked how you made coffee in the mornings. After the sunlight fought past the blinds or after so much time passed that it became an unacceptable hour to still be in bed or after snoozing the alarm seven times while it screeched You lazy excuses for humans, get out of bed. I liked how you made coffee in the mornings. So it would be waiting, hot, on the counter of our studio once I stepped out of the shower and dried off. And how you added cinnamon sometimes, the way I did when I would make coffee for you.

“You’re outdoors running down the street. The six o’clock sun lands on the cherry trees you just ran past. You glance down and see your feet under you, moving your body like when you were a kid and played soccer. The grass along the sidewalk smells like the soccer fields used to. Only now this isn’t a soccer field. This is a street in a city you just moved to in your early twenties. You smell the grass and see the golden six o’clock light, and you realize you can feel nostalgia for the present.”