Change the Sky, Sally Zakariya

He was tall enough to make me small, tall enough to shade
a swath of sky when he stood
above me, his hair like a dark
halo against the sun on a clear
day. But it rained a lot that fall
and the car kept breaking
down and so did we. Waiting
for him under a weeping sky
I felt winter coming. We went
our ways to different coasts—
my tall man to the wide sky
out West and me to the city
where sky is a matter of breaks
between buildings. I missed
his laugh, the way he always
forged ahead. But it was no
use trying again. What is it
the Romans used to say? When
you travel you may change
the sky above but you do not
change yourself.