Friends of the Library
Truthfully, I didn't know what
I was losing. Common sense
said that despite our love of radio quiz shows,
Jane Austen, and Friends of the Library sales,
the distance between my youthful exuberance
and your graying hair was too far to bridge.
I learned simply to enjoy the sticky July afternoons
where Scrabble games blended to evening rendezvous
and you counted the freckles on my back. On the last day,
when you beat me with "atonement" and later
pronounced the final count, I convinced myself
that I could emerge unscathed. Leaving, that afternoon
you kissed my palm and wished me good luck.
I left the apartment as calm and collected as I could wish.
Convinced that I would be the one without regret.
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