anachronistic love poem

I think that tomorrow
if it has rained again overnight
we should walk together
backwards on the sidewalk
hands grasped loose and swinging
facing our footprints
as they recede while
slowly evaporating towards
the framing beams of the old
storage warehouse parking lot
stepped on a rhythm
nearly equal to the grass lines
between the concrete rectangles
and I promise you that
through all of this we will walk evenly
and I will not
and you will not
stumble first
until we reach the angle and slope
at the corner turn
and down to the street