My friend dances on a stage covered in flower petals;

the Audience’s thanks for Their performance.

Their pointe shoes pick their way through the crowd of red and white roses

finding my soiled orange converse that complements the gray concrete floor.

I meant to give Them flowers today

at least fresh ones

but I had bought them a week before.

Not only do they wilt, but they crumple

curling like the ends of Their auburn hair

dried after sitting in the winter sun.

Without hesitation They snatch the bouquet from my shaking hands.

I blush, mumble, and excuse my inferior appearance

except they don’t care

They are just happy I am here.

I was a piece of your memory

that day in summer.

I tumbled out your window

Your black car matched the pavement.

Cars screamed past on the highway

while my ice cream melted.

My straw gleamed with tears

Time lapsed to night.

A racoon passed and sniffed me,

now a thawed mess of a McFlurry.

I was a brown puddle of chocolate

that sank into the ground as the animal moved on.

The next day rain filled my cup

But your car didn’t come back.

Mold started to grow

On plants surrounding me.

Years later, and grass covered,

A man in orange picked me up

to throw me in a black bag

that matched your car.

The one that didn’t come back.