you + me

Michaella Batten

Tattoo art: Genevieve Caron

you, back turned to me, walking
to your car in a safeway
parking lot. me, carrying
too many grocery bags
in balled fists, mouth
wide as a wine barrel, not even sure
if it’s you. you, girl i never stopped
loving. girl who never
got the chance. girl, perpetually
single, even a decade later.

me, girl. happily married, fresh
out of college. two kids, two
years apart. you, light hair,
messy like it used to be
after skateboarding
down rutland road
on spring mornings before
walking me to school. hands
almost touching, but                 
never                  quite

getting there. me, dark
hair beginning to grey, just a few
strands. the frayed edge of your enjoi
shirt. me, sunflower eyes. i
could call out to you, send your name
across the parked cars to scatter
around your ears like
dandelion fluff. like daisy
chains we made in middle
school while skipping class. while

other kids smoked pot. while
they fell in lust and we
fell in--
did you love me too? would you turn
around if i spoke your name now?
and know, just know
my voice,
because it still whispers
to you in dreams like
yours does in mine? occasionally

i wonder about these things.
what life would be had we
let ourselves tip
over the edge, fall
like the others instead of hiding
behind ‘almosts’ and ‘not quites’.
we’re in between you once said. in between
what? i asked. friends
and more than friends. like
and love.

i like to think that love
scattered over our faces
on that last day. do you
remember it? you sat
with me against the painted brick
wall between the middle
school and the high.
our hands
almost touched
but didn’t         quite

get there. we went to
lecture later that morning, like
it was any other day. like
i wasn’t going away to college
in two months. and you snuck me
into your math class, gave me
your red striped crewneck
and i rested my cheek against the desk
so your teacher wouldn’t notice
the girl with the gold eyes, wide 

like the space in between.