June 20, 1998

Losing Christine

Your high road and mine for miles
And miles denied the small divide between them
Wider yet and wider still diverged
You rose as we walked along
Still in eyesight
Still in earshot
Sometimes
When the trees didn't get in the way
I could see you dancing
Up there
Way up
I could make out your shape twirling
A shape
A shame
Your high road and mine for miles
And miles denied the great divide between us
Higher yet and higher still you climbed
With help
You climbed a path above a cliff I could
Barely even look up
Much less climb
Much less still see you
Much less remember to look
Much less.