I think of her

I think of her in the spring

when sunlight reminds me of smooth sandstone, warm afternoons

campus grass luring us from our classrooms in the quad.

When I felt grown up even as I was young.

A kiss in her office.

.

I think of her in summer.

Naked, water, sweat.

I graduated but I did not leave.

At night, cigarettes in the dark.

I leave but I do not move on.

Messages sent from the middle of a lake.

.

I think of her in the fall

when cool evenings smell like secrets and magic.

A roadtrip upstate.

Fig spread on white cheeses.

.

I think of her in winter.

It began in winter.

It ended in winter.

Is it ever really over?

.

I think of something else.

I think of something else.

.

I think of her.