so what had happened was this:
you were earnest and i thought that meant truthful
so i opened the trunk and pretended to look for something i lost

they filmed that movie on the basketball court and we traced the lines on the concrete
(it’s not usually warm in san francisco but up there it was sunny)

every day we walked
through the tunnel,
with the cars and the kids and the women pulling their groceries behind them
sometimes there were puddles and i think we spent weeks avoiding them

but what you did not know was this:
my middle name and my left foot and what i hear
in the splitting of an orange

the second floor apartment and those nectarine summers and why
i learned to cook pasta and write poems on red envelopes

and the cold, and how your whole face is a moon

and what I wanted to say was this:
Enough.
take it back—
the words you gave me,
the cracked peach pit,
this unbutton at my collarbone