Lindsay Flanagan

tonight

street lights fade
and an album seven years old
becomes less painful to hear
and a seven-year friendship
is less painful to lose

tonight

the moon tucks her elbows in
and refuses to hold
memories that should be forsaken
like candles, bars, sequined bras
and leprechauns too far away to touch

tonight

march and august should be forgotten
along with synonyms
that have anything to do with
matches, snow, or one-way tickets
that only lead down a one-way road

tonight

a broken silhouette will linger
but only in december
seven years bad luck just needs
the mirror of your face to break
and throw itself onto the back porch

tonight

where we watched it crumble
one night
and kody, in a pink ford escort
gave you a glass slipper
and drove you home

tonight

the over-used stars will testify
to what I am writing
because I would almost
believe what you are saying
except for baseball games and war

because during those seven years
they didn’t exist to you

tonight, they do.