Seasons

The last, slow moving moth of the season landed on my glasses frame tonight
It reminded me of the first time we kissed
     unsucessfully hiding from the spring Texas rain
You tasted of cigarettes,
I wanted to keep your lips forever----
     the rain kept the moths away

Uncountable, pristine, exquisite moments later
I nearly verbalized recently discovered emotions during a trans-atlantic phone call
Now, I am studying the topography of your life on Google maps
Geography may be the death of this

Inside my heart
Like thousands of moths
Captured for a moment in floodlights
Hopeful uncertainty
Captured for a moment in possiblity