Before We Knew
All thought of consequence
melted with that first touch
of tongue to skin, no respite
to be found in that heat,
no shade at all. I recall
hitching a ride later with a
German couple who lit up
and passed the joint without
asking, and after their
Cinquecento sputtered away,
I walked down to the bar at the
waterfront for an espresso and
to watch the lights spark along
the bay. A few times a week
I’d see a boat putter in and tie up,
and the one-armed man would
display his catch or a carton
of bartered Lucky Strikes, but
not this night. The moon
weighed heavy on my shoulders
as I trudged home, remembering
the way you’d smiled and said,
from some place I’d never
witnessed before, come here,
now, as if I could have said no and
turned around, as if another urge
could have inserted itself
in that moment, in that life, ever.
* * *
“Before We Knew,” first appeared in Sleet Magazine in August 2018. I am grateful to editor Susan Solomon for taking this poem.
When do we ever really know what’s coming?
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All I expect is the unexpected!
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a lovely story in poetry.
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Thank you, Elaine.
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Excellent!!
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Thank you, Linda.
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Even when we’re alone, we have our thoughts to remind us what’s important, whether returned to or left behind.
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Those reminders keep me moving forward!
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