White sheets marred by ink black hair;
My dreams bleed into my pillow–
The forgotten and the memorably truthful–
And as we lay here
Now thoughts of you are added to the vault.
How we talked
Of the taste of blackberries,
Wearing sandals in the snow,
Broken transmissions,
Drowning spiders in the sink –
All of it cosmically insignificant
And yet so essential
Because without it
I would only know
You smoke Camel cigarettes,
You drive your Chevy too fast,
And you have an extensive collection of rock band T-shirts.
You wouldn’t know
Why I like Keats,
Hate sunny days,
And am unable tell you a damn thing about baseball.
And added to my secret keeper,
My crisp, white pillow,
Is the memory of how we
Listened to the rainy tune
Nature drummed on the roof this Saturday night.

Sally Simons ’15