I’m thinking of that little prince who said
one day he saw the sun set forty-four
times. Wondering if scientific heads
would figure that as forty-four days. Or
if he witnessed it everyday, how old
he’d be. Alas, it’s beyond me. Just like
you’re beyond me, and beyond me, all told,
how to get you back, or back to you. Strike
a match. Light a lantern. Show me the way.
Let light reflect as I reflect on you.
That night our lips met and I sped away
with Uber, if we had both sensed what few
knew of lurking virus days, would you have let
me stay on like light, share the prince’s secret?
Roger Armbrust
June 30, 2020
