The lilacs drift into my nose and force-feed me memories of

Ballet on warm Venice evenings

-The quarters clinking into the jar- The repitition of bones

and memory

Jasmine shifting the mind towards my open heart of a child

Which one was it, lilac or jasmine?

They bring it all up, the breezes full of goddess sandals

and movements in the sand that resemble snakes on top of the river bed,

slinking into the memories of forgotton tails.

The swing swept me high into your maple arms, laughing mountainously

back and forth went your memory

Your hands held me only for a moment and then spun me back into a

flying frenzy, opposite your warm gentle embrace

The Sunday lovin’ sings out into the Hawaiian nights, spilling onto the front porch

and the darkness lightens the stars from across galaxies

as I gaze into your ghostly eyes.

And then the lilacs came back as the weeping willow swept a pantomimic hello