April & That

For the DWW whose ad in the personals bore the headline “It Don’t Much Matter To Me”

Through the big back window of his ’64 Barracuda
she had a clear view of the red maple, blossoms
of vivid orange like the just-
opened flesh of a brook trout, pale
skinny branches rooted in the sky—

though that wouldn’t necessarily be
how she’d describe it. All she’d say
later was, I never thought the sky GOT
so blue. I felt like we was
underwater at the aquarium,
the way that window bent
around & that.

Such details stayed sharp for years after
she forgot what the boy himself looked like
arching over her—what color were
his eyes, whether his cheeks were smooth
or bristly. I never saw him
again,
she’d explain, releasing
the smoke from her lungs,
little gray clouds bearing
the shape of each word.
It hurt.

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