What I did yesterday

Yesterday I unpacked the evidence of our togetherness (was it really love?):
Receipts for burgers and underwear,
Moviestubs with faded titles
The undeveloped roll of film from the day trip to the roller coaster park
The hard grey seed of a dune-loving succulent from Bill Baggs Cape Park where we made love in the nearby brush
A bright green toad watched us
A helicopter patrolled
Brine spiked the air
Sand in your hair
Wedged in the middle of the long narrow bag of memories
I found a blue card with BELIEVE written on it in gold wire
Then your picture; the half smile that—

I couldn’t go on digging, interrupted by regrets that spilled onto every article and soaked my evidence like water. I hadn’t believed enough, I cried, so I had stopped collecting.

I rolled the seed between my thumbs,
Examined its surface for cracks
Squeezed it.
It was dead inside, it had to be, although they say some seeds can sleep for centuries and still shoot life.

Anyway I’m too far north, too far inland for a seed from a beachside park in Miami to grow.