don’t try to fix me, she said, I am not
broken. we are who we are, pilgrims all,
on a journey through a narrow valley
running the wonder and horror of it
alone despite often joining others
along our individual odyssey;
while there may be no purpose in meeting,
it may be we’re fated together for now . . .
so we’ve sworn off attachments? he asks her;
this now — and what comes later . . . up to fate
and what direction we choose to follow;
is that your theory? she kisses his question
into moot, tacit oblivion as they
escape into a now of wordless bliss.