Lifetime Travelers
“We will not be lifetime travelers.”
-- Inventing My Life, Erica Jong
No, my love, we will not last forever.
Sunrises fade into noon,
as a perfect day ends in purple sunset.
Icicles melt, dripping into dirty puddles.
Summers end, students migrate in masses,
so, too, must we leave each other.
No, my love, we will not travel this life together.
These next years will be spent distant,
walking different daily sidewalks:
Wheels turn, roads roll back into the horizon,
maps crease along well-worn edges –
so, too, must we fall apart.
And yet – we traveled one summer,
in cars, in bedrooms we no longer belong to,
to lakes, woods, drunken kisses.
One summer can be three months;
to me, we were together a lifetime.
I die – and I am reborn, apart from you.
So, my love – do not forget our lifetime.
Though only an infant in eternity’s scheme,
it lived, it lasted – and we loved.
So, too, you must travel new lifetimes,
and find new lovers to fill the empty cushion
of your passenger seat.
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