I talk to people now, hearing stories

adoring them, taking them home in my pocket.

I learned from you. 

These special slices of infinity

are truly unremarkable.

It’s the stuff of break up songs.

Although I miss you every day,

embedded in this music, in that poetry,

in grenades, are the serenades of

people who’ve lost love,

and only after discover they’ve

been struck by the universal

heartbreak.

Beards brushed other cheeks,

arms held other bodies on air mattresses in beach houses,

tears shed miles apart in dank apartments,

blankets covering bodies on a velvet couch,

opening Christmas presents with glow from juliet balconies,

all is not special to us.

It’s not even special to love itself, having seen it before.

Love is thrilled by the mundane,

although we sought to make it exceptional.

realizing what we had wasn’t unique - MM