What If We Had Never Met?

What If We Had Never Met?

What if we had never met? That’s not impossible,
is it? I used to think I could dig deep enough to arrive
for lunch in China. I’d still be digging today or
melted and scorned by the molten core of my home planet.

But, what if? Would I still be afraid to dance? Would
I like to meander more or less? Would I let strangers take
my snapshot
or be shyer than all the rest?

When if we had always supped? Sharing bread and
bottles of wine,
would we have lasted longer as friends or
wandered like wobbling planets? Would I cross
states
to find you? Or remain solid as ice, permanent as pavement
and never leave my assigned place?

Lately beloved names escape me. Fascination with new ones
unmakes me. What if we had not feared so much? What if
we let the river take us, peaceful and strong,
along the banks of the mountains to the
open sea
and straightway realized how friendships are far too
geographical.
For me, it is no laughing matter. I can ache for a face
I have not seen in nearly 20 years. I can long for a voice;
no, the tone, not the words. I can long for a voice that meant,
“Do you need some company?” at the first hello.

Today space separates me from my if-onlys; yesterday, death.
Time has made our shared secrets thinner. I have no illusions
about eternal bonds, not with everyone, I guess. And
I hate to say I’m

lonely.

I hate to say it at all.

What if I had stayed just one hour longer when
all you needed was another human to see you
better
than you saw yourself?

What if I have divorced myself?

Today one day whole
would be the beginning of me.