Friday, October 24, 2008


For Val, because, once she reads it, she'll swear it was written for her.

See? I'm always right. Just like Ivanova.


It was a chance meeting,

After ten years,

Four children,

And eight hundred

miles between them

The convergence of

Chance and induction

brought them together

In a flurry of electronica

And passionate remembrance.

Memories in fluid

passed between them,

Alternating currents of

certainty and doubt,

Gravel tossed in a pond

Posing ripples

with every surface struck

Names remembered,

events reviewed,

Who said what to whom

In ever broad

concentric bands of

Year after year.

And still,

one story looks

Nothing like the other,

Except, for now,

Building from this point on

A story in concert,

One stone dropped

to a still,

empty pond.


TapWitch said...

Oh, you're not kidding!!!! OK so what if it wasn't written for me--it still resonates like a perfectly attuned singing bowl! I will forward this on to Ken (who, as I am discovering day by day, is so much like you--just substitute percussion for writing--that I think I finally found my Adam.)

Adam Byrn "Adamus" Tritt said...

My dear Friend, do yourself a favour and give me permission to delete you comment so you can re-write it.

No fella will like to see himself compared to another guy, not even favorably. Not even glowingly.

Perhaps say: I will forward this on to Ken (who, as I am discovering day by day, is so much like like the kind of man I am looking for--that I think I finally found my guy.)

TapWitch said...

As usual, your editorial critique is right on target, though I won't delete anything but simply add that yes I have finally found just the kind of man I'm looking for, who has the same qualities which I admire in a good and trusted friend.

Indigo Bunting said...

Congrats, Val, and Adam: great poem.