If I hadn’t asked who you were having dinner with that night
I wouldn’t be crazy lost now and you wouldn’t have moved to
Connecticut with an eyebrowed cooking woman: something I would
If I hadn’t asked if you liked sleeping alone maybe
we would have grown accustomed to each other sighing
into our dreams, a hip teaspooned into a hip, yours so much
fuller than mine, sailing on into the night, no navigational devices needed.
Bacon for breakfast.
If I hadn’t read her emails maybe I could have forgotten the alert messages
coming almost daily into my cerebral cortex. Messages telling me the ice was
thin though it was late summer.
If I hadn’t asked why you were leaving maybe I would still believe you
did love me though now I see all I need to do is be silent and I’ll
never learn that.
To be published in the Cape Rock