Her Journey

Our journeys are perhaps identical,
not to the untrained eye.
but experts in the forensics of the heart.

We travel the same blind alleys, suspicious cul-de-sacs,
isolated traffic circles with no exits

we pick up the occasional hitcher
with the sign "To Anywhere"
we sense a kindred spirit,
trust our instincts, and are seldom right.

But never were we shot and left for dead
slumped over our steering wheel,
car horn screaming,
with money, music, and laptop missing

Did we love too much or
expected to love
too much?

She is here now
like she has always been
when leaves are falling, or off season, after 9/11
when it is necessary to comfort, to relate
and never a moment late.