Across the rusty railroad tracks.

we met at the top of the hill behind the mexican restaurant, overlooking broken chairs and a dumpster and bleak gray cement. i kept laughing and asking if this was your favorite spot, really?, to come out and think. and you laughed and slid your hands into my shirt to keep them warm. there were beer cans buried in the leaves and milk cartons and cigarette butts. then you breathed on my face like a warm puppy and i counted your teeth with my mouth. when we left we crossed the muddy stream and walked past the bent tree with the swastika carved.

“i used to love you so hard that my whole body hurt,” i said.

“oh.”