sketches for my sweetheart

               On the eve of your twenty-first year we rented an old blue convertible and drove into the city that had been the final destinations of so many before us. The memories in my mind are always triggered by sharp vivid images and I remember it was a clear October day - the clouds in the sky formed the shape of a goddess, the goddess of travelers and souls lost in transition. The sun in your hair made it different shades of brown and the light on your face made it even more beautiful than I thought it could be. We existed in that song, your feet on the dash, and I  thought I could be your guide for all time. The dusty country road slowly gave way to pavements and streets filled with life and wonder, but you had privilege over all the wonder in my world. As the sun set the streetlights flickered on, the city started to stir from its long slumber and the souls I will never know wandered onto the pavements and alleys. Notions of the sublime slowly invaded my thoughts, sometimes to be lost is the most comforting feeling of all. We stopped on one of those streets so an artist could draw a portrait of you, of course it never aligned with what I saw in my mind - I had so many sketches for my sweetheart. Some sad, some poignant, but all of them were unmistakable - unmistakably you. You tugged on my sleeve when it was time to go and we made the long journey back. Some thoughts linger for awhile before being archived somewhere deep, some thoughts stay with you - like saviors nailed to trees, like lovers draped in flowers. You sang to me as I took in the scent of evergreen, the moonlight made my knuckles look pale and strange.You sang to me and the sketches I had of you made a home in my head as I drove you home.