Valley Poem

I’m balancing on a mud-made beam
between the rice terraces of this valley
when I crouch down, holding the toes
of my rainboots, to see everything
on the water’s surface. I turn my head
to squint up at you through my wispy hairs,
and you laugh because I’ve never been this young
before. You crouch down too. We’re two birds
on a telephone wire, watching every speck
almost move in the murky water.
Before it gets dark, we stand up to see
the mountains comb the sun,
making its light explode down and over
us. We leave the farm with two peaches,
a gift from the farmer. We are almost home,
holding the now dry peach pits, in love
with their hollow bodies, when I realize
you are not real but someone I’ve invented
in this valley as I listened to the river
move outside my window each night.