If I had three lives, I'd marry you in two.
And the other? That life over there
at Starbucks, sitting alone, writing -- a memoir,
maybe a novel or this poem. No kids, probably,
a small apartment with a view of the river,
and books -- lots of books and time to read.
Friends to laugh with; a man sometimes,
for a weekend, to remember what skin feels like
when it's alive. I'm thinner in that life, vegan,
practice yoga. I go to art films, farmers markets,
drink martinis in swingy skirts and big jewelry.
I vacation on the Maine coast and wear a flannel shirt
weekend guy left behind, loving the smell of sweat
and aftershave more than I do him. I walk the beach
at sunrise, find perfect shell spirals and study pockmarks
water makes in sand. And I wonder sometimes
if I'll ever find you.
