Lilac Rain
Rain fell for the first time in Los Angeles in six months
It embodied the pavements and the foyer of our ground apartment
You always adored the rain
The only complaint you marked on California
Dry seasons and endless sunny days
Your side of the bed was cold
The sheets all fumbled up
A tower of your favorite literature stares at me from your nightstand
Frida Kahlo burns into my brain
The clouds are light grey,
The same color as the blanket you knitted me for Christmas
You admitted the pattern was off and almost trashed it
But you kept it because I love rough drafted work
For a brief moment I imagined the sky was lilac, your favorite color
Almost matching the shade of your hair on Valentine’s Day
Your head emerged in our bathroom sink
Crying because it didn’t go as planned
Our cat snapped me out of the trance
Two pools of emerald blinked at me, wondering where his mom was
“I wish I knew,” I responded to his curious face
Rocked myself out of the safe cocoon of white sheets
The hardwood floors were frozen
I fed Gato and stared at the Christmas card your brother sent us
It hung from the weak Disneyland magnet you bought on our first date
His family all dressed up in an alliance
Stiff smiles and a newborn in his wife’s arms
He was a park ranger from up north
I throw the card in the trash
Along with the novelty souvenir
I miss you, this
hurts
Because our apartment lingers with the scent of fresh rain
And the sky shifted to your favorite color
I cry alone
Because somewhere out there you are wrapped up with a stranger
Ears perked up to hear droplets hit the window
Stirring to get up and make a pot of coffee
For someone who isn’t me
V-Day
He told me over coffee one morning
The clouds were grey cashmere bundles
“Everything isn’t about love, you know.”
My eyes examined his coffee, a muddy puddle in a porcelain cup
His crowded teeth beginning to stain like bikini tan lines
A strip of white but the rest a summer bronze
It’s still winter here in California
The rain gentle, a faint symphony outside
Embellishing small wet kisses on windshields and buildings
The rest of the world encased in a blizzard
Everyone tucked inside their warm homes
He patiently waited for me to comment
I took a square napkin, and shyly reached over
Placed it under the brown ring of his cup
“But wouldn’t it be beautiful?”
“What?” he answered, put off by the question
“If love was all there really is?”