Approximate

I cried thinking of some me and some you

That used to smile and laugh, but can’t anymore

Because they’re dead — buried by time

And a misty nostalgia that makes me say,

“I remember, I do,” when I don’t, when all

That is really left is a film clip: a cinematic rescaping

Of lost moments — a handwoven basket of

Some sorts, you know, to catch the shared

Glimpses of a former reality, an imprisoned reality

That’s locked up in a cell in heaven — which really

Means I’ll never see it again, which is why

I’m desperately trying to recreate those moments, building

Sand castles in a hurricane, capturing butterflies with

A shard of broken glass, hoping (endlessly and

Futilely) that you would help me when I know you won’t,

As I’m praying to the gods one at a time, two at a time,

For a miracle that even the silliest of them would

Only laugh and smile a pitiful smile, like you did, once,

Far away and long ago, when things were nice

And things unfolded in slow motion, or so it seemed,

It must have seemed, when then you put

A ghost hand on my shoulder and said, “I know,”

And did I crumple into your arms?

I did not know, nor do I know now, because

All I have left is a bitter aftertaste — but no —

It must have been sweet, like honey, like

A pure and white lump of sugar, like

I thought you were, like I think you are,

But everything is so hazy, behind

A veil of scars: scars of love — and I find

That I’m laughing, and smiling that same pitiful

Smile to myself, for wishing with such sad eyes

To enjoy once more, days that stung so strongly

And that I yet can only recollect as bliss;

Which is why I now yearn to remember

Everyday as approximate, and

Hope that I’ll never find you again.