He said: Seeing you again
was strange; in a way
I was not sure you existed without me.
Tthat you have a life, a home, friends
that you breathe and speak and think
without my observing, I find odd.
I often think of that now; that space
between intimacy and loss. I have
lost friends and that abyss hurts.
I wonder if they too assume
knowledge, privilege of being current;
or if they feel absence.
I hoard memories and replay
them. They fade despite constant
retouching until only outlines remain.
When I am old, if I make old bones
I will no longer be sure who said
what and whose feat that was.
You cannot leave stories half way
it's too hard to be a main character
without remaining in the plot.
He said he thought I stopped
frozen by his inattention; I did not.
I thrived and grew and moved
Saturday 7 March 2009