I Time Travel

          by standing in the bar where we met.
          I’m talking to a woman

with a moth tattoo.
It’s too easy to follow her

          back to April, still sweatshirt season.
          You are mopping the floor gloriously.

Your moth flutters with the motion
like it’s drawn to the lights.

          I tug your hair from your hat,
          another excuse for touch.

The future doesn’t scare me.
I can always go back to the morning

          you showed up on my porch.
          I couldn’t believe it!

You kneeled with a bag of dirt &
          planted me a tomato.