Over a plate of Sushi, we made

Over a plate of Sushi, we made
jokes, not plans for a later time

Though such plans would soon come
to fruition on a stroll to your car.

with a wave,I walked back to my apartment,
wondering who this woman was, exactly,

who made me smile so easily–laugh
at myself, laugh at the world.

In the blink of a few short years,
we would leave the town where we met

We had buried a dog we loved, buried
St. Joseph to sell a house we loved

And start anew and afresh. For the
first few weeks, though, we were apart.

We had spent many nights apart in our
young marriage, work exacting its toll.

Nothing new, except I found myself alone
in the quiet of a home altogether different.

Hungry, I walked the street that bridged
the halves of our two cities, alone

and in the dark, like I did on that
moonlit night when I first met you.

But I chose tacos, not sushi, because
that would be what you would choose,

and I missed you. And as I counted
the young passers-by, I wondered

to myself, who is this woman,
who is she, exactly–

She who would pack up all her
things and start anew with me?

She who laughs, who plans, who measures
the ways to stretch out our daily bread.

Who, will, for the first time
in a marriage spent in many cities,

Making due with phone calls, nightly
whisper a long overdue, soft “good night.”


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