now, i know more than i should
ever know but i want more so
i search through the years and
find myself as unknowable as
when we first traversed the same
geographic quadrant: was it 93
the virginia spring just starting
or 95
the el paso sun glaring and me
running to hide with a book in
hand: how many more times in
this life do we have to encounter
each other before we get it right
in the same plane of existence: yet space and time, and plain old stubbornness deters us
before we know, before we accept
before we trust, before we just
simply give up
