we both had much to do
many people to say hello to
I arrived, and you had been there
neither of us knowing

it hadn’t occurred to either of us.
your friend knew my friend knows us
some combination led to both of us freezing
the church bell of our brains ringing out
“you?”

you.

a ravine’s worth

no place to echo but in your own head
suddenly,
the entire room heard it.
“you?”
unspoken, deafening.

“you?”
of all people.
of all the second floor humid apartments.

“you?”
and him. and them.

better fits.
but you? here?

a word began to open our mouths
clumsy, hesitant, but doting
a word full of everything.
every wet night,
starlit dream
every fist bruise
every pang — guilt, pain, loneliness
a word so full of meaning
that absolutely nobody but us would understand why
understand how so few letters could carry so much weight
spelling out:
forgiveness
embarrassment
regret
assurance
and a final goodbye.

a goodbye spelled
“hey”