I knew I lived it, that when her hand brushed my lips
the bomb lodged between my ribs nearly broke through the sternum
the synthwaves carried my consciousness and the weight of the 80s
we were sober but moving
I know what was not there even as I had altered the memory
even as the color of her sweater changed, not out of my own volition
the ring was not on her left hand, wrapped around the middle finger
I know I had felt that tiny sliver of metal, coiled around her flesh and bone, a gift from a relative unknown
I know because without it, the moment would not exist
nor the sun-colored embers, nor the breeze’s lazy whispers
I can’t remember now if I cried or if a lonely drop from the skies
had been sent to land and slide along the valley between nose and cheek
a lone droplet on the right, a sliver of metal on my left
I closed my eyes then too as I have them now
I cling more to the memory, every desperate grasp
any nostalgic stumble
changes a tiny part of it
you pay to replay until the disk is so scratched
so blurred
closing your eyes does nothing then
but I knowed I lived it, I must have, I had to
I remember it all so vividly, so exact, perfectly
the tear under her left eye
the ring on my right index shining as I reached to caress her cheek
gray embers and no wind