sometimes i think of you, sierra, kid gone rogue, cross at the intersection. sometimes i think of you, where you are, where you were going, what you had to offer. this could be a poem about death, about pieces of wood covered in fake flowers. this could be a poem about your name painted on the grain, each brushstroke a half-chosen agony. or this could be a poem about the sign juxtaposed against your own final mark, garage sale and how endlessly predictable we are about our secondness. what did you think of garage sales? of extra chances, of moving on? sierra, you, biting your cheek, trying on the dress, adjusting your hair, sierra, i am trying to picture you before the intersection. you were so very young. i can feel it in your name, your memory, my crossed legs, glossed lips, cropped shirt. i think you imagined death as something better. i don’t blame you. what glory is there in your commemoration; a reverse crucifixion? what do you mean now? sometimes i think of you, sierra, girl of the road, girl of the fake flowers. your clothes sold at a garage sale years later, mother sobbing over the fabric, father putting up a sign at the same place that stole you away. the change is inevitable. sierra, this is me remembering you. remembering everything you could be and never were, remembering the obituary i haven’t read and the face i haven’t seen. sierra. your flowers are everlong, stark against an acute opposite. i have so many questions for this cross. i wonder about the storebought blooms and if you had a plan for them, sierra, something grandiose, something queenly, crowned, perfect. could you feel it, as your fingers grazed the fabric, did you know you were brushing up against destiny? against loss? against a fractal rip, a lifetime of plot holes, a dead butterfly? imagine it better. picture the grass, the blossoming green, the patches of dirt. imagine it better. replay the moment until it’s alright, sierra, you’re shaking in your bones and screaming for tomorrow, but i promise it stops after a while. imagine it better, you, girl of the windshield, the wheels, girl of the frame that wasn’t strong enough. sierra, lovely shadow, perfect ghost. cross at the intersection. sometimes i think of you.
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