Once, In Wonder

Reality has never felt more beautiful since I met you,

since I’ve touched you, since I’ve kissed you,

but the obligation of a poet

is to make facts fantastical,

and to never believe in the landscape

I try so hard to remember on paper,

to question the softness of the asphalt we laid on,

to find explanation for the hardness of your penis

through your khaki shorts,

to excuse the moisture on your chapped lips,

to notice the absurdity of street lights that shine way brighter

than any stars in the sky, dyeing white the darkness
of space above us.