for A

Was it the early morning run to Trader Joe’s to pick up some flowers for a friend whose husband left me on Monday night she texted or was it the pulling into a parking space with ease (the surprise of it the memory of it so early in the morning time) in gratitude plunged back to years ago years ago when my boys were small and I’d just dropped them at school the day stretched out in front, Sophie at her school dropped there by her father years ago years ago the duties divvied (but not really) and the spaces widening the ease of my car this morning pulling into a space, another space or was it the song playing on the ray dee oh, oh love it was called (I looked it up) that made my heart leap into my throat the choke of tears swallow water dropping? Love is a verb I heard I hear and all the verbs pulling dropping leaping swallowing into space. Pulling pink turning orange bleeding red maybe mauve from a bucket and later dropping them into water a vase holding them, flowers (only) for my friend.