You saw us walk out of the movies
dazed from a bear like darkness
arm in arm; I had just spilled
popcorn over her dress and
she clung to me in the scary parts.
You questioned me about whom I was with.
Always the correctness of inflection
and the despotism of will. Amid the fierce
Christmas lights of the mall, I looked
for exits and saw your black cascading hair
that fell so justly over your eyes.
Now they were sad as I introduced my
new companion; and I was suddenly
bereft of vision and wondered why
I could never make commitment.
I watched you on the down escalator.
Didn’t you belong in bed?
My Molly why were you spying
or was it mere accident
and retribution?
What a waste of sweetness.
And so I had my newest partner
in my closet for a while.
At last I remembered your tears
over a tin of hot chocolate
and wept for all my perversities
that gathered in my cup—
the dregs of feeling all alone again
without my faithful skeleton.
2006 © Judith Rechter
