Leaving

I left very little in Michigan when it was finally time to go.
A couple of cans of paint in the garage.
A roll of paper towels underneath the sink
Childhood odds and ends in the basement of my parents house

That last night I spent with you
it was raining buckets
A dark foreshadowing of the morning to come
when I would watch my past disappear
through the small frame of a rear view mirror

We jumped through puddles like little girls
holding hands
wrapped in boots, scarves
hats pulled nearly over our eyes
to keep the cold
and the wet out.

We sat down in a booth
surrounded by the soft glow
of rosy cheeks,
lit cigarettes
and lamps reflecting the red
of their pleated shades.

We drank more red wine than should be allowed
we laughed harder than we had in a while
but when the conversation took a turn
to the more serious
you reached across the table and took my hand
(your little hand in mine)
you lifted your glass
and in only so many words
toasted our past
the uncertain future
and this one night left
before I had to go

I left very little in Michigan when it was time to go
some paint cans in the garage
a roll of paper towels under the sink
a few odds and ends in the basement of my parents house

And that last night of
you and me together
(one last big hurrah)
I also left a little piece of my heart at that table
quietly and secretly
slipped it across the polished wood
a piece of me
for you to hold on to