Track 1 by Zoë Appelbaum-Schwartz
You were sitting cross-legged on a moonlit sidewalk,
hair matted with sweat and glitter,
faded eyes giving a distant look of dissatisfaction.
A mangled dirt bike sat beside you
and your delicate hands were shaking from the cold.
I want to forget your matchbox eyes
and the way that the bruise on your cheek
matched the purple-blue haze of the fog.
We were driving on the crest together,
your red backpack by my feet,
Alanis Morissette dominating the radio.
You were taking photos of passing trees through the icy car window.
You were young and you wanted to be someone else.
You still do, I think.
I want to forget the nights
when you sang to me and I listened
like some sort of idiot.
You kissed me for the first time in my best friend’s bedroom,
tipsy and overconfident.
My hair got caught on your earring
and you laughed at me.
I felt empty when we slow-danced at 2 AM in that musty theater.
And when we stood outside in the cold,
your tired eyes reminded me of sick days and radio silence.
I want to forget your offbeat smile
And your caustic voice
Asking if I’m ok.