No One Involved Will Read This
There we are together, smiling.
You’re holding the baby.
He’s sleeping softly against your chest,
wearing his little cap, red-faced.
You look so very happy.
I have my arm around you.
For reasons that are unlikely to become clear,
I’m wearing a propeller beanie.
My mom and dad are next on the bench,
both smiling, or maybe laughing.
Dad’s hand is on my shoulder,
his other arm around my wife,
who sits at the far end of the bench, also laughing.
Across from us are Jeff and Leeanne,
whom my wife and I would eventually visit
with our own baby, years later.
They are laughing.
I believe this photo was taken
on my twenty-sixth birthday.
I was young and so very much in love with you.
Later that night I’d be on stage at the Blue Nite,
everyone in this photo in the audience.
In a matter of weeks your friend in Las Vegas
would invite you to come out to the desert
to live with her while you figured out your next steps.
I’d drive you to the airport, one hand on the wheel,
the other holding yours, dreading the end of the drive.
But right then we were just in love and laughing
and celebrating a birthday and full of Mexican food.
Did everything seem possible? I can’t remember.
/ / /
1 February 2022
Latham, NY
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