Cold Memory
“Do you remember that winter
(around Christmas time)
when it got down about 15 below,
and you and I walked through campus
for a brief bit?”
Why would I recall
A particular walk?
Just a walk
Like many others;
Just a conversation
Like we often have.
There's nothing quite like
A brisk walk in winter
To make me feel alive—
So it is hardly surprising that I should wander about
On a cold night
With an old friend.
What would be so memorable about that?
I ignored the question,
Vaguely said I thought it was cold.
I would not admit
That I knew exactly what evening
My friend recalled.
It was quite cold,
Perhaps near freezing
(He exaggerates slightly).
I was home for the holidays.
We wandered around our old school,
Quiet because of semester break
(And because nobody else was stupid enough
To be outside in the freezing cold).
The cold air made the night sky bright;
The stars were crisp and clear.
I've always loved the winter sky
With a good view of the stars.
The walk was short
Because of the cold
(It was even a bit chill for me).
We talked a little while.
There was something a little awkward,
A little uncomfortable about that conversation—
Not just because of the weather.
It was an awkwardness
Not unlike what I felt recently
When saying goodbye to another friend.
It was the awkwardness of something left unsaid;
It was the fear of what might yet be said;
It was the discomfort of not knowing what to say.
Most of all it was the dismay
Of knowing you must say good night,
Goodbye.
Yet that night was different from this recent one:
Then I was afraid that you might say
What should be left unsaid—
What I do not want to hear or know.
On this more recent occasion
I regret what I did not say.
Sometimes I wonder,
Sometimes thoughts I do not want to think
Disturb me.
Is it simply my imagination?
Or do I forget your familiar nature?
Though I try to ignore these thoughts,
They worry me sometimes.
Do you
(For some reason I could not fathom)
Think of me
In a manner I wish you would not?
One can tolerate things in a friend,
A brother,
That one could not abide in others.
You know I would never put up with you
(I made that clear years ago)
If you were not like a brother to me.
After too many unhappy years,
You have finally found someone
With the patience to tolerate you
And the strength to love you.
I rejoice for you.
I wish you happiness at least.
But now,
You have no right to bring up winter walks;
You ought not remind me of long ago talks.
I do not want to remember,
And you have no business remembering,
Because
(As you well know),
I never would have put up with you.
But also because
There is someone else who should command your attention now.
Yet also because
There is someone else who has captured my thoughts.
Yes, alas,
If my dark thoughts are correct,
I can sympathize with you, old friend.
For I have another friend
Whom I think of too often,
Whom I think of too fondly.
Recently,
On a warm summer night,
He and I stood outside,
In that same town
The three of us once called home,
Saying our goodbyes—
And it was awkward.
I was too afraid to say the things I wanted to say.
I wonder if he has any idea.
I wonder if he fears my secrets,
As I fear what secrets you might have.
My old friends,
Are we stuck in some perverse triangle
(Or a topologically more interesting arrangement)
That leaves us all miserable?
I know you love her,
But do you wonder what might have been
If I were less impatient?
Meanwhile. . .
Sometimes I think I keep our friendship
As an excuse to maintain another relationship—
Because for years I have preferred
Your brother's company to yours.
Yet I cannot bring myself to admit it
To either of you.
Meanwhile. . .
He chases silly girls
Who insult and avoid him,
Leaving him sad and miserable.
(Meanwhile. . .
No doubt they, too,
Have loves who love them not.
And so it goes.)
It is a miracle that any two can find each other
In this crazy spiral in which we are stuck.
At least you have found someone,
So be glad,
And don't remind me of winter walks from years ago.
Why would I recall?
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