it was to know a season
had ended at one moment
and I had turned
toward winter, maybe
a lifetime of winters.
Then I thought of her
working week after week
in the office
of a small contractor
she said she hated
and going home to the father
she said she hated
and the mother who went on
about marriage and was
she ever going to get out,
and she just barely 22.
Almost 30 years ago.
She and I never saw
each other after we
got back to Detroit
in the smoky light
of early evening.
I let her out
a block from her house
and said I'd call her,
but knew I wouldn't
knowing what I did
about her life and how
she needed someone
I wasn't. I went back
to my room and sat
in the dark wondering
how can I get out.
I knew there must be
millions of us,
alone and frightened,
feeling the sudden chill
of winter, of time
gathering and falling
like a shadow across
our lives. Wondering
what was the answer.
Only a boy, still alone,
still solemn, turning
in the darkness
toward manhood, turning
as the years turned
imperceptibly, petal
by petal, closing
for the night,
the question still
unanswered, that question
never to be asked again.
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