Before the Flood

The screen glowed, a pale bruise.

There you were, almost a ghost,

in the edge of a band shot, 2005.

Your hair, not this color,

longer, kind of wild.

A cheap plastic cup,

half-raised, caught mid-laugh

with some face I didn't know.

The stage lights, harsh and orange,

hit your profile,

made your teeth too bright.

And I felt a weird ache,

a little jealousy for that crowd,

that loud, vibrating air

I wasn't in.

A whole life, lived

before my name

meant anything to you,

before your hand

fit mine like this.

A different curve to your mouth,

a stranger's pleasure.