My friend dances on a stage covered in flower petals;
the Audience’s thanks for Their performance.
Their pointe shoes pick their way through the crowd of red and white roses
finding my soiled orange converse that complements the gray concrete floor.
I meant to give Them flowers today
at least fresh ones
but I had bought them a week before.
Not only do they wilt, but they crumple
curling like the ends of Their auburn hair
dried after sitting in the winter sun.
Without hesitation They snatch the bouquet from my shaking hands.
I blush, mumble, and excuse my inferior appearance
except they don’t care
They are just happy I am here.
I was a piece of your memory
that day in summer.
I tumbled out your window
Your black car matched the pavement.
Cars screamed past on the highway
while my ice cream melted.
My straw gleamed with tears
Time lapsed to night.
A racoon passed and sniffed me,
now a thawed mess of a McFlurry.
I was a brown puddle of chocolate
that sank into the ground as the animal moved on.
The next day rain filled my cup
But your car didn’t come back.
Mold started to grow
On plants surrounding me.
Years later, and grass covered,
A man in orange picked me up
to throw me in a black bag
that matched your car.
The one that didn’t come back.