ME

i. I fell in love with a girl who catalogued darkness,
sat in her room with the blinds closed and wrote down
187 ways it felt
in all of the different times she couldn't see.
My name was one of them,
#143, ash velvet, and I didn't know what she meant at the time
but the only description she wrote beneath it
was good night for stuffed animals
bad night for worn pillows.

And I'm sorry I made you dream of the rivers.

ii. I fell in love with a girl who never looked in the mirror
but dressed to perfection, somehow
in her blue skirt and black socks
white tennis shoes
and a smile crooked as the bottom side of Indiana –
yeah, I fell in love with a girl
who could never quite get it straight – but hey,
that's alright,
I've never been 100% straight either,

and the one corkscrew curl you have
opens me up like fine wine
each time I see you smile in that cracked bathroom mirror.
Makes me half-drunk,
near-giddy.

iii. I fell in love with a girl who was depressed by Paris,
but loved Italy because she had no expectations,
who came into every relationship with no expectations,
so the only one she could ever be disappointed in
was herself.

And Harry Potter. That girl was
mad-crazy for Harry Potter.

iv. This girl has a name. And I'm not gonna tell it to you
cause you can read it on the chest, scrawled out here
on my tag - my chickenscratch handwriting.
My goddamn beautiful Indiana smile.