By L. Penny
Date: 8 May 1999

Cucumber Sandwiches

I remember you 
like I remember eating a cucumber sandwhich once
when I was little
before I decided I didn't like cucumbers.

I remember licking the salt off my lips
studying the taste
as if not tasting at all
but observing from a distance
I always tried to be unobtrusive.

I tend to prefer the bland
The soft nothingness 
of white bread and butter
of pale unadultered skin.

I remember your name
the plumpness of your lips
your brown van
the songs you sang.

I forget what your voice sounds like
the color of your eyes
the dreams I'm sure you shared with me once
all the tings that made me feel like I'd never felt before.

It is sad to watch our love
like newspaper headline of once great events
discolor, fade and disintegrate
so slowly you don't notice 

You are to me a handful of dust
mauve
soft
smelling faintly of weed and soap.

Do you rememeber when we kissed for the first time
and you still had a girlfriend
and it mattered
and you told me it was over before it ever began?

Do you remember when we planted flowers together?
Little Devil Fire.
Like playing pretend and believing in Santa
I miss you.