the last day of June

It's the last day of June and I lost a lot on the way here.

The trees are greener on the other side of our giant island

and the coffeeshops of Virginia smell better than the metro stations

and the flooded towns of Iowa

I lost my tears to the trees of Vermont

and I lost my safety in Missouri.

My discomfort was swallowed by the ticket that never saw the vendors at the park

I lost my fear last night

I lost my sharp tongue on the rocks between Pennsylvania and God's water

and I lost my doubt on the edge of the grass by the capitol building

and it was still a beautiful day, McKay.

I lost my friends on the bus

and my sanity in the bruise on my left leg from the boy who kept kicking,

and I lost my hope when nobody noticed him hitting me

over and over.

I lost my sandals in the boys room 

and lost my time teaching Seth Hanneman how to iron but maybe it wasn't a loss

(if the shirts stay clean)

and I lost my rings on the hotel floor

and my comfort on the walk to Lincoln

but I lost my heartache under the rainstorm that swept Baltimore

and my inadequacy was stripped on the upper side of Boston

and I lost my loud in the study hall at the New York Library

watching Abby Keenan shuffle a ball in a Nike pit under the glowing lights of Madison Ave

I lost my friends to the sound of microphones and hotel pools

and my heart murmur was drowned by the polaroid pictures

that walked us up the redbrick walls of Massachusetts

I lost my sleep

I lost the space between my cousin and I on the 50-pound hauls up fluorescent stairs

and I lost my eyesight on the 2nd floor in the quiet hotel outside Boston

when he wrote down my biggest fears and she apologized for the crying eyes and candy

I lost my lonely

but stole his.

And I trapped New York City in a bottle between my hands

in the Puglia joint outside Canal Street

but the moment the rain took the windshield a week later,

I had lost New York too.

Maybe this is an acoustic recollection of June

just a half-vintage record without much street cred

because I lost that too.

And my aunt stopped loving my uncle,

and high school is just a few pages in my journal and a folded maroon diploma

and I left my art stuff in the classroom

so I lost that too.

I lost the cross-section between my heart and my hands and the stars

and that was the heaviest loss I've felt in our favorite drink joint

with the wedding lights and the pink walls that we wrote about 

and Scarlet was right about the tether that's stealing my independence

but time and the weather is wearing it down, I promise.

It's the last day of June 

and I'm losing my heartache.