timing is everything

it took the rest of the summer,
before i stopped wearing
pants in the heat--
before cigarette smoke
surprised me again.
my hair is almost
grown out past where
it used to be,
before i tripped,
and stumbled--
but never quite fell--
over the boy who'd
walked more miles than me.
timing is everything
when it comes to love,
and too much time has passed now.
there used to be lines
on my skin,
visible marks of
belonging somewhere else.
like everything else,
they faded in their time.