Traveling

I wrote this for an ex-boyfriend that unexpectedly contacted me about a year ago. This is a bit of a "what if?" poem, dedicated to a relationship that had an abrupt ending, never fully resolved.

 

TRAVELING (for Mikhail)

 

You have always traveled (mostly alone);

and anyway, we lived so far apart.

We never did have much time together.

 

But we did try.  We talked.

In fact, we spent far more days

writing e-mails to each other—

punctuated by the occasional call—

than we ever actually spent together:

You talked of your travels;

I talked of my thoughts,

my feelings and perspectives.

 

Then you left.

You wanted me to come with you, I know.

But I couldn’t go--

I had commitments, obligations--

so I left you too.

 

Still, I cherish those e-mails,

all these years later

(college behind me).

They are filed away in a special folder

of all my special memories.

 

It’s funny that now,

 all these years later,

 you e-mail me again—

now that I have just celebrated

five years with my boyfriend;

now that you have married

 and separated—

It’s funny how all of those feelings

at a moment’s notice,

 come rushing back:

 

All of those giddy schoolgirl feelings and

the urge to give you endless gifts,

the desire to dump my soul in your lap.

I had hoped to convert you into a knight,

 or into a silver-tongue poet

who would profess feelings of love and forever.

 

Now you mention, casually, in your e-mail

that once, four years ago, you almost proposed

a spontaneous trip: several months together on the road. . .

(You wanted to show me the world;

you wanted me to help to sort you out.)

 

. . . But you didn’t, because I had a boyfriend.

 

And so you were a knight, after all:

 honorable, valiant, controlled.

As much as my romantic, soul-bearing self reels at that,

I respect your restraint.

 

You’re right, I had a boyfriend.

And yes, I still do.

 

And so, had you proposed,

I wouldn’t, couldn't, have accepted.

I have commitments, obligations.

 

Still, I wonder:

 What it would have been like?

 Traveling with you:

had I not left you alone in your journey?

had I not left you for him?

 

Perhaps it would have been marvelous,

and everything I had dreamed of:

an eye-opening, soul-bearing, romantic adventure.

 

Or perhaps, it would have been several months

 of feeling like I did back then,

on one of our few nights together

(one of the nights that you called so relaxing):

 

You’d fall asleep, and I’d lie awake,

still swimming in thoughts of longing.

I’d look over at you, on your side of the bed,

and you were so far away:

You were already traveling, dreaming,

a million miles from my thoughts. 

I was together with you then,

but despite your deep and sincere efforts,

I still felt, somehow, alone.

 

Reviews

[Sometimes A Mediocre No..]

Ah, a very good poem/story. The sweetness of nostalgia and fantasizing of paths not taken, but in the end, back to reality, you know the truth... the missed connection that is really what the fantasy is about.I really love this line: "the urge to give you endless gifts"I think that sums up the slight dissonance, the missed relationship that could have been, but really could not. He was off traveling...Nice job.