and the sounds pale as if they come from water

so deep and heavy

that no words can reach.

and so too, the colors are reduced to murmurs,

reds to blues to greys;

but they linger,

trapped between immobile water.

and time itself unwinds,

its strands overtaxed by the weight

of your life.

 

al,

it has been two years since you left.

was the call of the mermaids too strong for you?

i don’t understand:

 

you were mesmerized by cigarette butts and smoke

floating from flickering candlelight,

and embers burning low;

by possibilities;

by bathtubs –

white marble hollow enough to

swallow you whole.

 

i’m sure that from time to time,

you wondered what it would be like

to ride the a train till it looped,

to go to a frat party,

to say hello to the girl you thought you loved from afar.

but

never once did you look up from the mundane.

 

but when did you learn to see past

snow-stained boots and the sunday smog?

when did you learn to be escapist,

to drown yourself in the fantastical?

why didn’t you tell me?

did i become too busy,

or you too aimless?  

was it my fault?

 

perhaps i simply wasn’t looking

when you went swimming some sultry summer day

and lost yourself amongst the waves,

and

you found that all your decisions and indecisions could not reach

you there.

and you were sure

for the first time,

as you were swept away by the tides

of a vast and incomprehensible

and terrible

truth.

 

here is my truth:

i have not lived since you left,

not truly;

 

i may be turning into you.

i see your uncertainty in

shadows,

winter.

in people,

i see your hesitant posture,

with elbows tucked in and head bent down,

laughs nervous creatures that shy away from too many gazes

and reciprocation,

because you knew impermanence,

in people.

 

are they like you too?

are we like you too?

am i in the process of becoming so,

was i your regret?

could it have been me?

lips red then blue then grey,

unhearing because i too love music and though mermaids are no sirens

they sing just as sweetly.

(you have taught me too well.)

 

al,

did you ever pretend to be asleep at a table surrounded by

your laughing friends

for closeness is suffocation dread and longing?

we have so much to lose.

and before you ask me if i dare,

if you’d ask me if i dared,

first tell me if you’re everywhere;

if the disease in us is in the world,

if i must guard my heart from mermaids

and from our friends who will take our lives with them

to sea:

 

if i should have held you at a distance,

to save you,

to save me.