i
It is time to write to you, I realize
looking up from a book as my husband
tells me we are running late.
But you are long gone, familiarly gone.
Is it a defense mechanism to say
that we never should have been friends,
me with my Cloisters and flannel pjs,
you with your Grapevine and safety pin earring,
as if friends are made by matching games?
I cannot remember the point you made
that Sunday morning, except we laughed
for a long time at knowing two most obscure
answers to the crossword and not the rest,
and named my cat right then.
That is it —
that I cannot remember the point, what you meant.
ii
Our hearts, obsessed with survival, capable
of so little then, shoved memories under
sofa cushions, avoided every burden.
Oh — but that is not the way it works —
iii
I fret over your death, that you were alone,
never having anyone or anything that was yours,
not even a place to crash after a wild night
except my couch, which disappeared when I moved
away. Who held your hand?
Yes, I fret, on my couch in my living room,
surrounded by people we fill up Christmas
cards with, things we chatter about, things
we cannot predict as well as we might expect,
but that perhaps we should have.
That I wish I had loved you with this heart instead,
grown taller now, fiercer, more pliable, openly
imperfect. That you would not have been alone.
Poems from in between 
15 responses to “Jackson Heights, 1982”
Very moving. This lingers a long time after reading.
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Thank you. So glad you enjoyed it.
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Definitely one of the top five poems I have read in the past 2+ years on WordPress! The sadness is palpable to the point of tears but the heartthrob of hope beats in every line. This is a poem that anyone would be proud to have written. Just superb!
Ron
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Thank you, Ron. This is very generous of you.
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You are very welcome. Please know that I was very sincere in my praise of the poem.
What else to say? More! More! *g* 🙂
Ron
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Thank you. And I am sincerely overwhelmed.
I will do best on the ‘More! More!’ thing. 🙂
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I’ll just agree with my two smarter friends. A moving poem, rich and bleak at the same time. Thank you for sharing it with us.
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Thank you. I really value you opinion.
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Really beautiful. Those last three lines… ❤
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Thanks so much! This weekend, I hope to get back to our collaboration. The holidays just knocked me off my feet. Hope you are well.
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Holidays, traveling…very well but ready to get back to routine. 🙂
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I feel so much sadness and regret in this. How often we look back wishing things had been different. That inclusion of the memories of the Sunday morning touched me deeply.
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Thank you. So glad it speaks to you (regret is so hard). Thanks so much for your feedback.
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That was lovely.
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Thank you. Very much appreciated.
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