more hamhocked nostalgia

I remember all sorts of stuff
it doesn't have any significance now, it doesn't MATTER
but it does

but I remember
oh, I remember
we hold onto these whisps of romance in our memories because they make up our heart like a patchwork quilt of longing, these threads, these multicolored shreds of nostalgia

I didn't expect to remember this when I saw him, honestly
our current phase is so clean, so clearly openly and presently succinct, there is friendship, we exist in comfortable platonic equilibrium
but still
these things I remember, and I remember still them still

walking off the BART, stopping in the rain, ducking in a bar, quietly having a drink, happy to be done with that strange and slightly caustic party where everyone's dirty laundry was peaking out and beginning to stink up the air
and I barely knew him and I asked him what he wanted to do and all he said "I don't care, as long as you'll let me spend more time with you"
and something inside me shifted slightly and I had to hide my smile in the end of my whiskey and we held hands and left and proceded into the rain
he walked me home ducking in eves and under trees to avoid the torrent, kissing me with every pause and at every stop light and with every avenue and moment afforded

we got to my street and there were overhangs everywhere suddenly and the final stretch was a nice dry stroll to my front door

so he pulled me out into the rain and then back under someone's overhang and said "just incase this is the last chance I get to kiss you"

you don't need to know the rest

I wouldn't talk about these memories...

who wants to hear them...their friends, their current lovers? mine?

no
I have my now, I wouldn't trade it for then
and really, in the broader signficiance, context sheds a much less romantic light on the scenario at hand

these are just memories...see, just my memories


but I get to keep them, right? in my keepsake box next to photographs and old letters and ticket stubs and the key to my first boyfriends house..where they never loose their shine, and stay vibrant, with hues of sepia colored longing