I see him
Across the fields and beaches
I gather his hand into mine
We hold,
For the past.
His son, I see playing in formless sand
Talking about laptops on
My beach house footsteps,
HIS son.
I don’t see, what I don’t want
A wife, a mistress
Another body --- female.
Red pyjamas or linen sundress.
That is I ---silenced in cloth.
He is just as happy as he could be.
Times shared and
Lives lived
Are two different things.
I look into the blank window
And disappear.
I break my own records---
Of delusional nights and
Clipped winged birds.
