are closer than they appear.
always check the blind spot
before changing lanes.
are these metaphors for life,
I ask myself?
I don't answer.
the look in your eyes
when you almost drowned.
I knew enough
not to reach for you
but to jump right in
clothes and all.
panic didn't set in
until years later.
this is why I shiver at night.
another swimming pool, much more recently.
five pairs of brown eyes smile at me.
the water is shallow this time.
I smile back.
returning home from Albany
I wonder how
I'm going to survive the trip
without coffee.
I'd count volkswagens
but I'm one or two decades too late.
in the rear view mirror
I watch two people
kissing in the back seat.
one of them is me.
I tell them to keep the noise down.
they ignore me and disappear.
years later
I can finally admit
just how much I miss them.
Paul David Mena
4 December, 1996
Cambridge, MA
