Our First Real Goodbye

People tell me we walk                     similarly,

in stance, in hands in                        pockets.

But you ran away,                 which was new.

It was a quiet ride, a compact          car parade,

everyone was alone with                 their thoughts,

your wife, she too, was                     all alone.

Did I have                  my long hair then?

Yours was close                     cropped, like a soldier

who returned to                    a very different war,

where guns are illegal                      in the malls

and Starbucks.                       The road was long,

but we finally                        found the end,

where I was to wait                          my turn for goodbye.

I embraced too tall you,                    you in your leather coat.

It was a silent                        journey back home,

where no one new                would be waiting

behind the door.                   Behind my eyelids,

I can still see                          your shoulders lifting,

like a swallow                        who remembered he

was born winged.                  You flew away.