Falling in Love with a Vagabond

I once traced the freckles on your arms at two in the morning. I said,
You are the sky, and apologized
for covering you in black lines. You said
not be sorry. You said
that you liked it.
When you fell on your longboard and lost
half the skin on your left arm,
I could still see the constellations underneath.


Every time I said fuck you for three months, you said
We already played that game, and you
smiled.
The night you left you never said goodbye,
only looked up at me from that rock in the parking lot
where we'd spent so much time avoiding work
and other people,
and said, oh, fuck you,
and I think maybe that meant I made you feel something
other than the emptiness you try to fill.
So I said that we already played that game
and you hugged me
and as I walked away, you shouted out,
rematch, next year! and all I could think was, oh,
fuck you,
too.