Popcorn

imagine this:
us, walking barefoot through the wreckage of melted roads
the sun carving epitaphs into a sky too scorched for rain.

They say the world was once wider, 
measured in scraped knees and firefly nights, 
in the space between streetlights, 
where time was counted in the hush before dinner. 

When I think about tomorrow, 

I see the calculus test I have not studied for 

and the five overdue assignments with long-received 

I miss the days 

When we would run through the fields 

And swim in the pond all day 

Smiling and using kayaks 

I miss the nights 

ten tears that escape from the narrow corners of my eyes

flowing down my cheeks and onto my lap where they melt and disappear

even my tears have lost.

nine questions scribbled into a diary late at night