We are a thousand years old
  aged before our time
Violinists, musty and cracked
  the candles burnt down
Music box slowing
  notes dropping
    one
      by
        one
  off into the silent end.

But loyal!  Still.
  Our hands tightly clenched.
    Our projects
      (our children)
         dreams still
           shared.
Yet---

We are so young
  so mutable
    unsolid
Impressed upon each other, with
  new bits of
    each other's souls
  now comprising our desires
    our interests
      our eyes
and---

  Other bits dropping away
Like
  the music box notes
Sometimes
  sudden remembered
Presto scherzetto
  a burst of sound
out of sync, unreflected she
  wants a buddy
    a decider who
understands her moods
  tickles her fancies
    lower upkeep
      not so

Insecure as I.

I --
  remember foreign soils
    adventure, a
certain disregard for right and
  safety.
A more certain core
  once, I *knew*
    right from wrong and
      where I was.
What I was doing.
  An innocence?  Or
    Na"ivet'e?

I, before, was
  always lonely
    distrusted myself
      unable
        wanting only
          impossibilities but

I *liked* myself
  I was certain
    unapologetic
      confident in
        an unseen end
I've grown cynical of.

She's changed me so
  I will always want
    someone so much like
      her.  And
she's the only one I've ever known
  so much like herself.
    Those brilliant qualities, the
      *comfort* of her
        embrace.
The frustration of longing
  for her
    and I
      to be
        somehow
different.

More like we used to be
  and less.

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

And what if
 I'd never met her?
Would I be happy
  not knowing antique chairs
    not addicted to
      decorating shows
  not admiring
    her skills I do not have?

Would I be productive
  alone at odd hours
    listless with
      no center?
Would I dress sharp
  own clothes I've discovered
    look well on me?
Own a welding kit?
  Be so uneasy
    beseeching the almighty for aid?

Would I still
  know my course?
Would I have
  taken a job?
    Not come to Boston or
her not school at Tufts?

Would I be
  fruitlessly chasing education
    while holding a 9 to 5 job?
  enjoying no problems with cash-flow?
  having my heart broken by others
    less thoughtful and kind?

Would I have
  been jailed, and freed, into
    arms that held
      when nothing else stayed firm?

Would I
  skip like a child
    fly kites on the beach
      cherish canine
        obsessions?

Who would I be
   without her
And how would one plug
  any other in her place
    carved deep from my
      heart.
                    -- CSA, 04-Aug-2003. 12:10pm.