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1. Asphalt remembers rain: like tears, like sweat. The cracks, crow's feet.

2. I wanted to extend an invitation, a branch, fingers wrapped in fruit.

3. --the marriage of kids in cornfields, separated by broken stalks and windsong, punctuated by laughter and dusk.

4. I'll keep your stalled lovers a secret. I won't whisper their names.

5. Slipping on beads, tiny bruises on the neck. A trace, identified.

6. Soy beans this year. Crops're much shorter, making it harder to hide, easier to seek.

7. I worship by the hot apples, punctured by bees and worms: summer hangover. I kicked him out because he was fresh.

8. --spirits by the barn, daddy with her favorite cow. The driveway lacks asphalt.

9. I recall the names of all your uncles, even the criminals. Even the ones who died when they were kids, married to cousins: grass wrapped around fingers, wedding bands.

10. You are the quiet shift of seasons, a crack added: I remember.