Some collisions across space-time-- no matter how brief or well defined-- imprint on the one the other's reverse, maintaining contact through mysterious bonds. Like the reach of his eyes through her sleep deep at night stirring the water of her dreams, changing the chemistry of what he can see. There is no leaving what will not be lost. The stage may go dark, and the music fall shy, but once entangled, the dance is such that if one goes left, the other, light years away, tilts right. Einstein called this phenomenon "spooky action at a distance." I call this love.
I could have let you fade away It would have been easy to do I never held your hand, after all Never heard your laugh in my ears Didn't even know, for starters, if your eyes were brown or blue But no. Something on this screen made me look up your name which seems right because for me and for us This is where you lived. And now that I know --now that I've seen what I should've known before-- that your life could not be contained by a world of make-believe, emoticons and avatars or by two sons you loved so fiercely Now that I know where you went and how you chose to arrive Now that I feel how blue blue really is I wish to God I could rewrite an ending that had firmly taken hold of your hand -- For my friend, Christine Eldin, who was the light and the glue and as fine a person as she was a writer. I'll meet you on The Strand.
