I Gave Him the Moon

We talked into the dark,
Reading the cards,
And sharing philosophies.
He rubbed my dirt-stained, calloused, desert feet.
I made him a sandwich in the night
To curb his hunger.
He gave me love to satisfy mine.

He served up a beautiful New Mexican dream
On a bright and shiny plate
And I whipped up
Homemade waffles for him
In the morning,
Savoring his every delicious word.

On weekdays,
I left him to live in my tent,
Playing the archaeologist,
And testing his Thoreau hypothesis.

During the hot, daylight hours,
I dug in the dirt, barefoot and vulnerable,
Mixing up history
With my own sweat and fears.
At night,
I rested in nature, counting the stars,
While he pondered
Complication

And later
Served me rejection
With a side of heartache.

Today I savor
The sweet memories,
And am nourished
By solitude
And kept company
By dreams.

I squint at the shattered reflection
In that mirror of broken pieces
And see before me fragments of myself
And a landscape of the New Mexican desert…
All of the places we loved
In a moment together
Before our lives moved on
Into the separateness they were always
Supposed to be.

We were always one
Under the magical New Mexican sky.
I was him
And he was a part of me,
A reflection of one another
In the vastness of a moment
That extends into infinity.

~K

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