each of us
separately;
years appeared, shone, yellowed, peeled away
before we called out that falsity and all the coiling lies
tripping off tongues we left behind.
There were dry years,
each of us
alone in a crowd like single stalks of grass.
Sunrises came, noons blank and hard
with evening riding on the tail of eternity
whispering through the book of our solitary dreams.
But I remember
--and will always remember--
that moment of recognition when like met like.
I have been often confused, mistaken, lost;
but this time it was sure and simple as east to west.
I knew, honey. Right away I knew.
______
for the Sunday Muse #39.