When We've Left (a premature goodbye)

July 31, 2008
By Robin Wasserman, Vienna, VA

You’ll find me at the crossroads
of our uncertain minds,
the safety of our placid present,
and the fear of forgettable futures.

You’ll find me in the rhymes
without the rhythms,
the turns of phrase that hold
no comprehensive meaning,
and the jokes that no one’s laughter follows
but your own.

You’ll find me where the night
bleeds shine and shadow,
the streets lie, not dead,
but waiting,
and your pillow does not pinch you
as you drift to sleep.

I’ll find you in polluted pages never read,
The findings I forgot they never felt,
And the winter mud sludge
Corrupting our white canvas.

I’ll find you where our slightly skewed realities
Bend and mesh against the other,
The perfect passions play
On crooked smiles,
And white weddings make cameo appearances
in the running footage of our futures.

I’ll find you when our fingertips but brush,
The other palm preoccupied,
When I hold my words in check for fear,
And when my mouth flits unfettered by your humor.

I will find you when the setting sun
stretches shadows on my memory,
Because my luminescence is not found in light,
But in the burning bulb of our simulated sisterhood.

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