We talked for hours through
hushed as others slept around us.
About music and things
of seemingly inconsequence.
He had to leave
in another 4.5 hours (how did I know that?)
When it happened during
something about chords or crotches -
the infitestimal spark that lovers seek:
acceptance of twin soul when wisdom
of one's life conjoins with unbounded
beating of the other. Summed up
in fleeting eternity of a second.
Both tired. Without gestures
he invited me to share the space beside him.
We lay gingerly in his tiny bunk bed
cautious of rude discovery.
Gently held in knowledge
we had 4.5 hours left of waning moon.
Unsa(i)d but content
we found each other
and the 4.5 hours we had the chance to share
as touching foreheads drifting to sleep.
He was young, was I young? then?
I awoke without him
disoriented vivid dream,
with snoring lover beside me.
as if I'd just awakened
I forgot why he had to leave,
who he was, his face, his name,
or where we were.
But I remember the fleeting feeling,
I remember the 4.5 hours,
I remember the bittersweet waking without him,
I remember the poem I poured shortly after,
I remembered this.