And was it wrong for me
to talk to you about the future
as if we would both be there?
Could anyone call us bold
for being young and making plans
for our young age?
Perhaps I should’ve been silent,
keeping the future at arm’s length,
letting it come to us slowly
from our blindside.
From your blindside.
It would crash into us, surely,
but it would’ve been minor.
“I” would’ve survived.
But instead,
being the boy I was,
I forced us to take it head on.
And when the future
removed your fiber
from its fine robe,
I had to gather up the strength
to look away
from the empty seat next to me
and focus
on the gaping distance
as it looked straight back
as if to sing its own praises and ask
So, what are you planning to do now?