Twos

It used to be twos
A car drifts without a driver, just like you seemed to move from me
We approached the sweet, inevitable late night crash
The two headlights burned, like owl eyes
I felt like running
I used to cut my neighbors grass for two dollar bills, he fancied them
I’d fold them into boats, and leave them on your doorstep in the summer

You told me when we were ten that you liked the number two
The next day I brought you two copies of Hanson’s new cd, I didn’t quite understand the concept yet
But you liked me for it
You brought me two flowers from your front garden, a rose and a dandelion
It pricked my finger, I was caught up, I put two band aids on to celebrate you.
We were locked in conversation always, growing in subject with our age; you tried to destroy being…you.
I remembered, and waited. I bought you two corsages the year you decided to live again, one for each arm, you looked like royalty.
As we drifted you liked to call us the “unbreakables”. We’re not so broken. You still walk through my forethoughts, I hold out hope.
I hold out because I remember , it’ll always be twos.