We Wore the Same Color

Journal

We bought the same cheap sunglasses at the drugstore.

That was the whole plan.

The street was already a river when we got there.

He took my hand like it was ordinary. For me it still wasn't.

A woman on a stoop handed us water and called us baby.

We drank it in the shade of a bus stop.

He danced badly on purpose until I stopped being careful.

The float went by without us. We didn't chase it.

At the end of the route he kissed my temple.

Nobody made it a speech. The day didn't need one.

We rode the train home in the same color, still wearing the glasses.

I kept the tag from his shirt in my pocket.