Gone. Somewhere on the #1 train
between the Bronx and Chelsea.
I shouldn’t have kept them
all in my wallet. Should have kept
a mousetrap in my pocket.
It had been only a year.
I should have paced myself.
I was too young
and naïve to fathom your absence.
You were the one who understood
limits and functions. No thief
can steal the symbol for infinity
we etched into the ice with our skates
on the Thornton Park rink.