love is a dying star

this is what i know

that for love to die

it takes millions

and millions

of years

or it never happens

at all

it came to me that night

we went for ice cream in the snow

and we saw a shooting star

right then i said to myself

that star is dying

but you were one step ahead of me

you were already holding that star in your hand

you were putting that star in your pocket

saving it for an end

we both know will never come

and i know you still have that star there

you pin it to the inside

of every day you wear

i know it will stay with you

for millions

and millions

of years

and that is as close to an ending

as this love can fathom

          *          *          *

The Space Between

I.               I should tell you that some things don't go away even when they're gone. Not even when the only record of them ever happening is the memory itself. Not even when the heat of the sun fries them as if they were ants on the sidewalk on a hot Mojave day.

II.              Hold on. Don’t hold on.

III.            Memories are records of what was but also of what is and what will never be.

IV.            It is a shame that a person can’t attend his or her own funeral. Nothing would scare us if we could reach across time with a Sharpie and put our initials on everything that makes us shine.

V.             Fears are the real ghosts of this world.

VI.            Boo!

VII.          Imagine a world in which all of our wishes were premonitions. In that world the space between us would never cause us pain.

VIII.         I look at your photograph and find myself marveling at the way time is deepening the hollows around your eyes, when I know full well it is nonsense to think I can hold on to the things that don’t belong to me.

IX.            It is nonsense to think we can hold on to the things we love.

X.             And so I marvel at how formidable I am when the moon is in Sagittarius and the songs are in my heart. 

XI.            Memory is the space between us. And by ‘us’ I mean it is the ‘and’ between you and me.

XII.          Memory is the last time I held your hand in mine. Memory is all the times our lips will never meet. Memory is an individual chronology of ghosts.

XIII.         The only way to combat inertia is to act.

XIV.        What is the point of remembering? For instance:

a.)    I was once on a plane that almost crashed in a typhoon at Narita Airport.

b.)    I once got married.

c.)    I once spent an entire night awake in a bed watching a man sleep because I knew there was a very good chance I would never get to sleep beside him again.

d.)    I once held a smiling child in my arms, whispering to him that although he would never remember the moment, I would never forget it.

This is what I’m talking about.

Memories are not images.

They are feelings.

Apparitions.