To call it love is generous
when I know that it was loneliness--
when it was desperation
separation
need
and validation
in the form of dorm-chair psychology:
misplaced affection projected onto the nearest warmth.
And I know in my rational mind
that if you had not been homeless
we never would have met.
But that doesn't change a thousand miles of interstate.
It doesn't change late nights in the library
and kidnappings to diners
and cold fried chicken
and teeming bowls of peas.
Or sharing a sink to brush our teeth.
Rational thought and time
will never change that you hauled in a mattress for me.
Rational thought and time
will never change the underwear
and toiletries I started keeping in my backpack.
And rational thought and time--and time and time and time--
cannot change the way I felt.
It has not dulled the pain of loss,
as it never quelled the unrequited burn.
So if my memory was generous,
let it have been,
let it have been.
And if that love was generous,
let it always be.

06/26/2019

Author's Note: CDR, 3/5/82-3/7/14

Posted on 06/26/2019
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