I press my fingertips against the concrete

oily swirls

print my existence here, now,

for as long as the slab lasts

 

This quixotic material

crumbling around rebar ribs of buildings past

supporting semi trucks as they rumble

strong as sin when leaned on right

 

Like trust – the surest bond, until it’s abused

unbreakable

until already irreparably fractured

then, it’s dust

 

Like moments spent in flights of joy

unending

until they’ve already gone

then, they’re vapor

 

So, I run around the room

casting everything into concrete:

the smile at my door

your cheek when you’re close at night

the song you hum as you bathe

late conversations I’ll too-soon forget the words to

advice I should have better heeded

praise I never heard at all

the nervousness of reaching out

the thrill of contact

the surprise at every hair and curve

your hand when I need steadying

your lips when I cry

your eyes gone deep and wild when everything strips but wonder

 

cherry blossoms at night fill streetlight air before aged grand hotels

evening snowflakes between which we found each other

the morning curl of your eyelashes in the corner

 

sunrise rain you bring in your shirt when you come to wake me

the gentleness as you send me to sleep when I ail

 

dimples in your secret, true smile, that defines my relief

 

the care in your fingertips, not seeking proprietary printing

 

I cast these all to capture the contentedness of now

making concrete everything too quick

 

Like dear ones once they’ve departed

unremarked, yet revelatory as daybreak

until their time is past

then, they’re abstract.