For our last real date (though of course I didn’t know it), I wore a floral summer dress. I knew the seasons were shifting and I wouldn’t be able to wear it much longer. Midway through the night, we sat outside at that bar that I’ll miss, around the corner, and I made some remark about how it was probably our last chance to sit outside like that. You really liked the dress, remember? I thought you would, but not enough to make so many comments, take it off so fast back at your apartment. That dress - those flowers - that brightness - that desire: the last bits of summer that we clutched onto together, before your faith fell with the temperature.
Megan McDermott, a poet and Episcopal priest, lives, writes, and watches copious amounts of television in Western Massachusetts. Her debut chapbook, Prayer Book for Contemporary Dating, will be published later this year by Ethel Micro-Press. Connect with her at meganmcdermottpoet.com or on Twitter @megmcdermott92.