No More Reunion

Lakes recede
to reveal
what we were thinking

before it
all began. You listened

so well, retained
everything, convinced me
to run

not always solo.
Geothermal energy

not wind power
you argued. I know nothing
about robotics, even less

about how to fathom
your mysterious exit. What

am I supposed to do
with that fact? You won’t
be returning to explain.

Middletown, CT

Scene of accidents
in deep thought to be cracked apart
for easy turn over
another examination into the least lies
of poets before an absinthe
conversation between all of us and sidewalk concrete
the way it got slapped
down for one of us to greet at midnight.
It was a wider door
I never knew could be opened till she leaned in
and dozens followed
behind so many more watching from balconies
labeled by decade
so no one forgets. And a hill to tuck
and roll down that last
night before strutting on out. There’s no return
to that position—the center
of gravity has shifted as it must.