The next chapter

we peel back the lines

of some long forgotten sentence

as if it were the unravelling

of an orange sweet and ripe

just a second shy from falling to the ground

you hand me a half-moon smile of a piece

that I slip between pursed lips

the sudden shock of bittersweet

turning my tongue to a tang tinged alert

and I laugh a bit

my eyes watering up into what

could be mistaken for tears

you touch my cheek softly

brushing chilled skin

and glance across the alley

where the sudden sparks are from

shooting up high out into the night

and I wonder if you are searching

for cue card direction

some sort of sign from the studio audience

because some days it surely seemed

that I needed the approval of the masses

more than I needed you

and it was the nature of

that drive and desire

glue stuck to me

ever since I was a child of five

setting toys across the grass

pleading with wordless conviction

for someone to notice me

for a sign that I was wanted

but I am far from the Hee Haw overalls

and jungle gym calloused hands

of a far past 1973 summer afternoon

and this story tale time in between

is nothing like a final happy ever after

because it takes more than a horse

and a first kiss

to make any kind of forever

dirty hands and tired bodies

falling and failing to get back up again

the hardest work is that of a relationship

but kiss me anyway as the year turns to another

and we will collect those coloured sparks from the sky

that make a night like this taste of fabricated magic

maybe if we hold it deep in our pockets

saved for later

we could pull them out and use the gleam

to light each of our individual pathways

and some days we might trade them off with each other

when we meet up at the curve and curl

taking hands briefly to say I am still here