we meet in the dark,
in places we keep concealed
for our own reasons

Last night in bed,
staring into the darkness,
seeing my life flash before me -
a barrage of color, sound, sensation
I hardly recognize today -
the squandered moments rushed back,
markers of each intersection
where my course was set
Then there were others with no signs,
just subtle warnings
of what lay ahead.

And I was the driver,
listening to the music
and tapping rhythm on your thigh,
cresting a hill on the expressway,
seeing the disabled car
half an instant too late.

How is it we so easily
dismiss the peculiarity of the moment,
as if any other
could have taken its place?

Perhaps it’s because
we want to believe,
(as you often said)
every moment,
each opportunity,
is self-orchestrated;
like the universe
is a willing mistress
waiting for our call.

But just before the break of day
as you lay with me,
resting peacefully,
silk hair on my arm,
soft breath on my neck,
I was someplace else,
wondering what I’d done
to have found myself
in a moment like that one.

some things never change,
like the way she smiled that day
- dare not let it fade.

my plea through the tears
of the girl at the counter:
it can’t be all bad.

*
This is one of those haiku written because I spend a lot of time watching. Occasionally, I intrude on the things I see, but mostly I just observe.

It’s been a lifelong habit, a curiosity about what people do and the way they think. I’m probably still at it because of the precious little progress I’ve made so far. It’s probably the same reason I read blogs and talk to people whose experiences and opinions are least like mine.

It’s probably also part of the reason you (whoever you are) read the haiku and other words scattered over this site. Or is it?