We sit on the steps
of the Museum of Natural History,
eating ice cream in the cold.
A spring day that feels like winter.
A toddler runs up the stairs,
his mother carries a stroller.
Her eyes squint up
like they might catch him.
A guy with a plaid ski hat
sells pretzels from a street cart.
Taxis speed down the avenue.
A bit of early moon, purpling the sky.
The moon’s still a crescent,
soon it will be new.
Adam asks if I want to go to the gem room,
teasing me, we kissed there once,
he said I had lapis eyes.
I start to tell him
things have been really hard.
I want to talk
but—
He stops me then, kisses me,
takes a second too long for our lips to align.
Says
he’s sorry,
he has felt bad
about that winter night.
Says
he wants another chance,
he’ll be home for the summer.
I pull away.
But I can’t find the words for:
My broken family.
My dying father.
Can’t find a way to tell Adam that:
I almost destroyed the yearbook.
They kicked me out.
His knee shakes,
eyes flit to a girl
across the street.
Instead of any of those truths,
I say the only thing that wants to come—
Ask Adam if he’ll be my date to prom.
He kisses me again, harder, rough,
presses my back into the steps,
says yes.