What Could Have Been

I am about to sit down and do some revisions on this poem. I've found I don't like posting finished poems here but rather things I want to work on. I don't know why. I used to only want to share finished stuff. Who knows when/why there's been this change. Here's this nonetheless.


What Could Have Been

I used to sit and think about what
could have been if I hadn’t driven
away, down the open highway,

watching you in the rearview mirror,
but if I had not left then I would never
have found the courage to say no.

You would have won my affection
without even trying, though I would
eventually blame that fuzzy feeling

that creeps into my head
when we go above 10,000 feet.
And you would have kept me with

promises of a custom-designed
log cabin in the mountains in which
I could write and not worry about the

bills because you would take care
of me. You would take me around
the world with you, buy me horses

to ride through the meadows. You
would marry me in a castle near Aspen,
and give me all the children I wanted.

If I had not left then I would never
have taken the time to realize that
all those promises would have turned
me into a Religious Republican who

doesn’t hold hands in public, who
doesn’t cuddle at night, who would
give up that cabin in the mountains
for a groomed lawn and a mini-van.