a life spent recreating
the four or five moments i have loved--
the particulars dragged out
into something more meaningful than occurred,
probably.
whatever reminds me of them,
i will make
new, to bring them into my life again
during the times they are gone:
each a separate memory,
thus a separate need for a particular setting.
one is all youth and lighting
and comfort;
another is all age and travel and finding
what happens at the end of the highway,
and a kiss on the shoulder
in the moonlight.
all separate, all needed, but perhaps
now that there is you--
now that there is a chance for creating
instead of recreating,
a possibility of actual love instead of
remembering what i might have mistaken--
i am torn between the need
to have you recreate each single solitary scene,
or be a set of new remembrances, all on your own.