from here to there, like me to her

some days your 26 years 
fit within a metaphor, 
most nights a rainstorm is a rainstorm 

it is mid august in El Salvador and, 
no matter how much you grow to love 
and respect the rain
it will fuck you;
at a time when you just didn’t need it to; 
and 70 km away from home, 
with no cover to park your bike under,
you wonder, why did i even attempt this?
because to love 
isn’t brave,
it’s foolish;
wanting good for someone else 
more than you want yourself
runs against 
the very skin 
i am wearing,
and i know so 
because every time i feel it,
i wonder, why would she ever do that for me?

and little by little 
here to there 
seems less like 
something to work out or endure 
and more like 
everything i’m moving toward;
and so another meter homeward,
into the lightning that is dancing through the storm clouds 
like promised rain and self doubt,
and 
wearing all of it,
like wetness and distance,
i tie wishes to the red kites that are her affections, 
and fly moonlight into dark skies,
like candle flames; 
the wind is an old friend  
and he holds them in view,  
like promises
and all i ever needed to come find you; 

some days your life fits inside a metaphor, 
tonight, i ran into a rainstorm; 
either or, 
i wouldn’t change a thing from here to there.