Remember thinking we all lived in them?
Remember lonely’s desperate longing
to get away? The body’s sudden whim?
Shaken psyche’s feeling of belonging
somewhere beyond reach? We’ve all been Margo,
haven’t we, testing limits? Been Quentin
fearing action, change and chance; never go
against authority. Then moments when
we did -- teenagers with close friends -- only
moments. Vulnerable nights with her or
him. The kiss, warm breath, no longer lonely.
Those brief moments we cherished as ardor;
soft laughter, eyes glistening, grateful tears.
Brief moments dancing with us through the years.
Roger Armbrust
October 10, 2016
