In the beginning there was a face I saw
among the faceless crowd, and nothing more.
And there was fall and winter, summer spring
and life was good.
In time there were some simple words,
polite and socially correct, in falls and winters
springs and summers, as life was going good.
Then there was a party, and I wore those pants
revealing something that you liked, and it bore a stare,
a resonating comment, and I was pleased, and it was good.
Some months have passed and then there was a show,
an invitation, I drove in snow, quite far in fact,
still thinking nothing of it. And it was good.
I was late, and I sat down beside you
and you were emanating heat, I felt it
coming through our clothes. And it felt good.
I didn’t know you well, and you were doing something
you knew how, and it was good.
And I created alter-you in my imagination,
and I loved your alter-you more than I should, and you
were pleased, and it was good.
And we were blessed, we thought,
with all those things that passed between us,
yes, they were good, sometimes.
and I was pleased when you were pleased,
and many a day and night have come and gone,
winters springs summers falls, things born and died
or killed, and God only knows if they were good.