gravitational lensing


on the ways friendships change you.

even light will bend on its travels. 
a galaxy can smear, like a sticky-fingered 
thumbprint; even a glancing touch 
is visible to someone looking back. 
and you, you all have smeared into me—

a love of mysteries, kitschy detective shows
for old women. the small indulgences 
of jars of pesto. 

an affinity for motorsport. seeds you planted
but never saw come to fruit. 

an appreciation for mathematics. understanding
of chaos, how small ripples become something
larger than themselves. my favorite band, 
my preferred style of dress, the collecting 
of enamel pins. the reason why I hate december. 

a new way of storytelling. fire, dice, and paper. 

a thirst for song and story, though not
in the same form as when you knew me.

if I want one thing, it is this—
that you may look back and see me
as an arc in your memory, 
as you are in mine.