Today we walked, with backpacks and sandwiches
and I remembered to bring straws too, because
I’m not happy drinking from a can or bottle.
Happiness is the deferral of sadness, I said.
It’s having hope, you replied.
We sat on a pluton. Under our splayed palms
the granite felt like warm cantaloupe rind.
I dropped my straw into a bottle of cold
tea and sucked wholeheartedly.
You quaffed a can of soda.
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