Theseus at the Crossroads                                  

            We had plans beyond the wine we shared
            That night, I know

            You see, it wasn’t something I could 
            Bring myself to tell you at the café,
            Not with gypsy guitars and dancing,
            Not with your lithe arms around my neck
            As I pressed your waist,
            Not with the spice of your kiss

            If I had stolen back
            To stroke your cheek again
            While you slept

            If I had stepped carefully around
            The clothes you scattered on the floor
            Of the bungalow and
            Fell again beside you on our bed
            In that sultry middle darkness

            It would have been impossible for me
            To have become the man you saved

            Did you weep?

            Perhaps you smashed the window
            Looking out over the waters of my destiny

            Did you stick around for long?

            Your thread – I’ve kept it 
            Close at hand, it’s frayed and greasy,
            Knotted like a rosary from fingering:
            Of course I knew you never meant
            For it to chain

            I spared us both, my darling

            I couldn’t bear to watch you fade
            Or find you maimed under the weight
            Of ordinary days

            What a surprise after all this time
            To run into you –
            Such casual strength and wit

            How might we spring to grandeur
            Now that we deserve ourselves


             Emanuel E. García, Sojourns2014