I left the tabernacle in quite a hurry.
I put on my coat and gloves and
cloaked in my alone-ness
stood on the cement steps to the beach.
The sands are washed over by
recollections of frigid gazes, terse words.
I hate it here. I'm afraid of lakes.
So I venture onto the dock, and back to the steps,
and tremble in the wind.
Standing there, I could see some shadow
crossing the wet grass, coming towards me.
It's all clear to me now that
you followed me down there.
The intentions you've been hinting at for so long
could be heard in your questions,
the sadness in your voice when I didn't want to talk.
You've opened up your soul to me
to the world
and I'm standing here with my hood around my face
blowing hair in my eyes and
my mouth closed.
I think you're stronger than me.
I don't know, maybe we should fight.
I'll get angry and self-abusive and you can yell at me
and then it won't be awkward anymore.
Then I'll tell you all the things I assume
about your past, about your future,
about why you came after me.
But I don't have any words for you.
I'm much too cold, I can't feel my lips.
So for now, I'm going to forget that you
followed me down to the lake and
I'm going to pace the gray shores of discontent,
tossing these eroded memories
back into the black waters
while you shiver and walk away.