Where You Are Not

I walk the campus think I see two shadows:yours, tall, thin, leaning forward mine, short, squat, leaning into you.But I am holding my own hand carrying books, plans, papers not yet graded.  Later I drove our old red station wagon to the woodswalked in withering hemlocks blue jays squawkedsmall gold finches flew away; and you were not there.

Days later at the symphony red sequins and shine found me feverish hair hiding face I felt sleep found meon shoulders not yours.

Leaving Vivaldi early, I knew the lake was near I would not look at the gleaming nor listen to waves;they are always crashing.