Evening (Now and Then)

Your eyes are not black

You warn me

Though they may look it in this light

We sit below the glowing cross

On the steps to the padlocked gate

A girl beaten sorry by time

Pours out a backseat window

A squat chalky car

A camel in the sun

A man with a gun

We’ll meet her later that night

She’ll apologize for yelling so

Aimed and sharp

Cutting wide eyes open

We’ll tell her it’s alright

We’ll laugh before we all split home

Forgetting each other’s names

But she isn’t yelling

Now, arms dripping down

Pulled into thin fingers

She’s staring silently 

The car stealing her down the block

The berries in the grass at our feet 

Will be gone in time for the earthquake

Tell me you know this much

As the day’s heat softens

Migrating into the moth-eaten streetlights 

I’ll believe you

Though I’ll have to pick and pull the brown from your eyes

I’ll believe you