Postmarked 1998

I ventured beyond the little walls
that we put up around that wonderland we built
when we were still letter-writing dreamers,
I saw you, make-upped and ageing on myspacedotcom
and
I don't know-- was I shocked? I felt a little
voyeuristic, a little
disheartened

I took your advice, I looked up
p-r-o-s-e-l-y-t-i-z-e
and I suppose I’ve done that to you, tried to convert you to
my ‘happy’ – I just…
I wanted to keep you the way you were
in the picture, the one where you
weren’t posing, Timmy just surprised you—

I’m not driving
I can’t drive you, can’t ‘fix’ this, there isn’t anything to be fixed,
there isn’t anything to repair, to keep, to save

I whispered my wishes into the wind…

we shifted stance so quietly
stepped apart so gently
wings winnowing out our names—this fairytale doesn’t work out, didn’t work out the way I—I’m not driving—you’re not Griffin, and I’m not Sabine—I wish—I want--

goodnight, goodnight, my dear