confession

everyone asks
if they are where they are supposed to be,

if they chose the right path.

I plod this corridor,
seeing your faces
hearing your voices
not attending your events.

Like turning my head
to see through a cracked door
something private-- like one undressing
or embracing
a lover.

I see you
making music.

I see you
laughing.

I see you
sitting, walking, thinking
perhaps too strenuously.

see you

acting.
advocating.
living.


my hand trembles on the knob.
knowing the knock my disturb you inside,
that an unannounced arrival
might be too
                awkward.

I remember
I chose to leave
to be

somewhere else.


Do I close the door,
or continue
to watch from afar?

-----------------------------

For My "dear", Lauren
The one who confuses me, Martin
the ones who taught me to think, Liz Core, Andrew, Henry, Joe, Keith.

The ones I could have been "In" with.

For conversations sparked and lost.

For those I have neglected.

Last year Goshen... Say good bye?