I
was always
leaving
just as
I was
arriving.
Sometimes,
I didn’t even have
a place to be from.
But I never missed myself
as both of me passed,
in opposite directions,
through the revolving door.
The timing was that tight.
Might have been comic when
we pushed against each other
standing,
half-way in and out
looking at each other,
bug-eyed,
through the glass panels.

Panicked!

Wanting the other
to push harder or softer,
like gerbils,
depending on who it was
we were running to or from.
It can be frightening
to know exactly
what we’re heading to
and how much it’s
going to hurt
when we arrive,
and yet,
still,
never-the-less,
to keep
pushing on,
away
or
towards.

It becomes a prophesy,
fulfilled before
the prophesied moment,
even before it is written
in that book which is my life,
whether I wanted it
to be or not to be.

Relationships are a bitch!

Until,

who knows why,

the swirling motion
of those whirling doors

stops

and here I am-

in the right place,
at the right time,
for the right reasons,
beside the right one –

when that section of my
Book of Life
is
done.