Isabelle Ylo

Lately My Memories Look like Craigslist Missed Connections

I. ICE RINK
I met you at an ice rink in the peak of summer. You were looking 
for your phone charger outside the locker room and I was 
waiting for the Zamboni to finish 
so I could get on the ice. 

You said it would be easy to remember my birthday 
because your favorite number is six.

II. WHEN GASOLINE PRICES WERE AT A RECORD HIGH
So we walked together to the gas station on the corner 
of Schmidt Road and Lily Cache Lane at 9 p.m. 
to buy chocolate milks. You told me a sob story. 
I had a couple sob stories of my own. 

So maybe it was cathartic to rip open each other’s wounds 
on the dusty curb of a 7-Eleven convenience store. 
To say, this is where I hurt the most. If you 
remember this, reply back with what color of Gatorade Zero I drink 
and how it feels to drive back home as the sun begins 
to rise.

III. FLOWERS
You brought me flowers: 
daisies, carnations, hydrangeas,
baby’s breath, lilies, 
sunflowers, tulips, wisteria,
dahlias, honeysuckle, orchids,
alstroemeria, snapdragons, 
marigolds, roses – 

Now it’s hard to walk past those glass-fronted coolers 
at the grocery store and not think of you.

IV. THINGS I SAID
I said, let’s split a stick of gum. 
I said, my grandfather has a tumor the size of a hard-boiled egg in his brain. 
I said, everything is fixable, right?

V. THINGS YOU SAID
You said, let me know when you make it home safe.
You said, I dreamt you died. 
You said, I woke up but the dream felt real and you were dead.

VI. LEFT TURN ON GREEN
You showed me how to trick the sensors in the left 
turn lane but I haven’t been able to do it since. You learned it 
from your dad, who knew all 
about the little coils of wire embedded beneath the surface of roads, 
how the induced magnetic flow informs 
municipal traffic patterns. 

You could swing by after work – with your eyes tired, 
voice worn, shirt smelling faintly of sweat. I’d love 
to hear about your day. I’d love
to tell you about mine.