I am very much aware
there in between year 1 and year 2
there was a time when I
was sad or crying,
about my intentions or how I was really feeling
when you said that,
or just didn’t.
There was a time,
I laughed so hard the car shook
with joke-heavy drops
of happiness slowly soaking into the seats
like cigarette smoke
into even the most resistant hair.
between year 1 and 2
flying without reason,
through similar seasons,
where every day is spring or summer
to have missed the first flecks of snow,
but you cannot miss what you didn’t know,
that I could be so different,
like machinists installed me with
so automatic I forgot
to be sad or to cry
my heart pumped so high
I ignored the fact that I should pop.
And when the moments stopped—
When I breathed again.
I could feel you,
there between year 1 and year 2,
nestled down in runner’s gait,
ready for year 3 through 98,
for the auto-happy,
of which I am very much aware.