retreat

the lethargic urgency of wooden folding
chairs in the Christian retreat center
every group that visits thinks some other group
must usually be here, but they aren’t
and at puberty i remember stealing glances
in that different place, different time, at Emily
sure i’d say or do the right thing Here but i never did

one night after dark they had a bonfire by the lake
we teenagers kept playing volleyball after sunset
someone, maybe me, found the floodlight switch
but kept stealing glances through deep blue grays
from Here to where the winking orange flames
silhouetted our adults; i worried mostly about bears
even though i felt a little shame

my children are approaching that age now
while the Peter Pan in me assesses: good kids, but
maybe too tender. Here, take my hand
we can fly right over most of this, stick with me
but when the lost boys pile into sleep i sit alone
stealing glances at a past that doesn’t even exist

as if i could wait
for a different story
to begin



10/29/23