it's a Sunday in June

and I just want to go home

but home is two different places

and one, of course, isn't a place at all

but the familiar line of your left arm

and, more specifically, the faded black art that will cover it forever.

I know it sounds like I'm singing the same sad song over and over

but it's because I am

and, god, I wish I knew a way to stop.

that's the one thing you can't help me with

without you, I wouldn't be able to cope with these groundhog day summers

but you can't stop me from seeing my shadow in the first place

even though it seems like you should be able to.

I think my favorite tattoo of yours is the first word you said to him

because it was the first thing I said to you, too.

grainy footage in the year 2010, but I still gasped a small, private "hi"

like, "oh, hello, lovely boy - I had no idea you existed but I think you're going to make everything better"

and you did

and you do

and perhaps you always will