Pillow-box Reunion
“This is a dream, isn’t it?”
I stood up from what I was doing and wanted to run to where you were
but, even in my imagination I could not betray your trust.
And then it was over.
“Young people take risks” your friend warned
and I promised that I was different despite how I felt.
It wasn’t hard to get comfortable in a box of pillows at 2am.
I was hoping for rest before I was taken by REM sleep in a spell of 30 minutes
without knowing what was real.
I should have put it together with common sense,
with an MA in Education, what would you be doing here?
You were introduced as our new Manager,
we saw each other with a synchronized gasp
and your eyes said, “Please don’t”.
You wore Polo jeans and a red long sleeve shirt.
I heard your voice and it was not just similar, it was the same.
I had so many questions, years of make believe conversation
I’d run through as if there could be some assurance of preparation.
First I would be thinking
“Do you know, that you ripped my life away like an umbilical cord?”
But say “How’s teaching and when did you leave Florida”?
I kept waiting for an explanation but, there wasn’t even time for Hello.
I watched you work and tried to intercept your line of vision but,
you were too far away to affect.
I was breathing on a leash and choking back instinct, as if it was procedure.
There was a sadness about your soul and an apology you’d almost mouth
if it weren’t for the fear of being caught.
You had me trained like this, to duck in your car
and forsake love to protect your career.
Now I am so frozen in your thoughts that I forget my rights
as a woman spurned, even here.
“This is a dream, isn’t it?”
I said aloud but too late to change.
I was walking over as I felt the time in crumbling steps,
I was going to kiss you goodbye but, you held a crowd
and your eyes begged; “Please Don’t” when my phone rang,
I sprang up then walked to the time clock with a fragile task,
trying to hold on to your face without hands.
