Resemblancitivity

I'm unlucky
    not to remember my
                         first love

but as I've grown
     I've grown quite fond
                      of my memory

and the sticky bun
i had this morning
reminded me of a love --
a burgundy kind of love:

her name would be Sheila
        for no specific reason whatsoever
             the first kiss would be at a pennycandystore

no less magical than Ferlinghetti's
and the meeting of our eyes would be
sweeter than the candy and the falling leaves

/our love eternal-our beings temporary/

later, i'd run into her
     upon Pont des Arts
          she would have boys (such beautiful boys)
                 and i'd have my daughter

but our eyes would meet
   no differently than
       the pennycandystore, breaking
           the lock of our hearts

i'd say hi
  she'd smile back

we'd catch up
eat some burgers
dream about making love
dream about childhood
dream about the preserved innocence of our mutual feelings
dream about dreaming the same stuff

we'd say our farewells, then
   such monstrous farewells
      that is actually a wish
          to never see each other again
              but also a wish engraved within that
                  which is to run into each other again

and we would too, later
 -- but not too late

in front of the Cloud Gate
  we'd take pictures this time
    see a baseball game or something

and i'd kiss her
and she'd let that happen

Sheila would be the first
                          and the last
                              and everything in between.

oh, how i love sticky buns
and how lucky i am
not to remember
my first love.