Shiny New City

It was only after being
alone for days
that I discovered what you already knew:
We forked some time ago
and by holding on to what was
we precluded what could be
or, worse,
masked what was.
So effective our ruse
it fooled everyone.
Even we, too, thought us happy and blessed.
I fell for the dream of us
as I fell for you
that first meeting,
when, door opening, I saw the glowing image of my life
visioned before me radiant
as the virgin of Guadalupe.
It was ridiculous
of course,
but what could I do,
fed as I was on love and marriage and forever?
I always hoped to be the one to clear your path;
to be he who holds you back shames me.
This reason alone justifies our demise.
There are, in fact, ruins beautiful
in their crumbling perfection.
Think Pompeii, buried in one day with volcanic pronouncement,
its people and pets forever doing everyday tasks,
preserved as clear as our memory.
Sometimes better cities are built
on older, damaged towns.
Perhaps we'll rebuild above the detritus a city new and shiny
and offer tours for the brave
to view the carefully arranged skeletons
of our underground.



© 2002 Homer Christensen