The name, found quite by chance,

burns, pixillated, from the screen

to his retinae, and flips right-side up

to the brain. 

                        The name, recalled

sometimes in what-if daydreams,

forms face, lips, the slyest smile,

the body of late-night give-and-take,

young and free, once. 

                        When he makes

a mental list of the important ones

in his life, she always makes the cut,

as a first girlfriend would.

He composes an e-mail,

first in his head, then with his hands,

innocuous enough –

                        how-are-you and all that,

synopsis of his life so far

since they parted like waves, years ago –

wife, kids, job, and so forth.

He sits backs, reads it, reads it again,

finger hovering over the last key.

What will she say?

Nothing?

                        or

How dare you contact me

after all these years!

                        or

I don’t remember you

(highly unlikely)

                        or

I’ve thought of you a lot,

and I want us to get together,

now that I know where you are,

and I’ll hound you till

your marriage falls apart

                        or

You hurt me deeply,

and now you opened old wounds –

please leave me alone!

                        or

Yes, life’s been good –

I’m happily married

to a lovely man

with three beautiful children,

a rewarding job….

                        or

I’ve suffered from divorce

and depression for many years –

I don’t know how I can go on.

His finger hangs another minute,

trembling with the excitement of risk,

as he thinks of shockwaves

                        rippling out, reflecting back,

and finally, with a world-worn sigh,

he presses       

                        Send.

08/18/2004

Posted on 08/18/2004
Copyright © 2024 Bruce W Niedt