(Margarita and Dick)
As we drove through the countryside
I sat between you and your wife
feeling each of your touches with every curve and bump,
being the buffer between you.

When we stopped at the church
I explored alone
until you joined me
asking questions, sharing rumors,
giving me all your attention
while I could hear
– just barely –
the echoes of your wife’s stylish heels
along the stones.

As we picnicked
my boyfriend was able to join us
but he wasn’t as funny as you
nor did he pour the wine so freely.
I snorted at your stories
even spit-taking into your face
which threatened to dampen the mood.
Until you simply,
gravely wiped yourself with a napkin
and threw it back at me
driving us both to guffaws.

Your wife was silent through all this
and so was my boyfriend.
Did they believe what they were seeing?
Did they know what was to come?
Maybe they did speak up
a little.
I don’t remember.
I only had ears for you.

Yet I knew you were married
and I knew I was drunk
and young
and eventually
I knew I had to go
so I excused myself
and off to the woods I went
to make first, water
and then, peace with myself.

On my return
I saw in the branches
a cadre of eloquent dancers
in exquisite positions of autumnal grace
and lost in my solitude
I joined them
in dance.

I didn’t know that you were watching me
and she was watching you
just out of sight
until much later,
after the seasons had turned
and the Fall of our former loves
had transformed into the Spring of ours
and everything that had been potential
had grown into something else.