We would hike up on days
where the ocean swelled and
my guitar was in tune, and we would
go through what seemed like endless fields of lavender —
yet to me were an escape into forever.
I remember we would tread on
paths of dirty trails forgotten,
and interlock our fingers —
my spaces there for you,
and your spaces there for me.
And when we’d reach
those two light towers,
I’d watch them roam around
the far horizon untouched within our dreams,
as if watchers watching with great animosity
and euphemisms said over and over;
on the look out for us,
because they knew that they were ours
and we were theirs;
I was his
and he was mine.