Gris-Gris, an online journal of literature, culture & the arts

if I were to meet up with myself in middle age

by Kerry O’Keefe

in a train station    say    at noon
I would greet myself    kindly    the affection
resonant but strained    I would try to think of
what to say    knowing I had forgiven myself
everything    but needing to mention    details
of what I hoped    never    to happen again
it had been fine    we were young    we didn’t know
there was fire    and exuberance    a lot of running around
everyone had survived    we meant no harm
it was how    after all    we grew

all of this    would pass    between us
without either one    for a second    putting
our suitcases down    no lack of kindness
but as we walk away    I am certain    each is
similarly empty    sensing what we don’t know
suspecting    whole other worlds    hoping
the flatness    the weird calm    would turn into
something else    and bloody soon