I ripped open your envelope, tore <br />open old wounds, transported back <br />to a time when foresight was occluded <br />like a warm-front straddling the Adirondacks: <br /> <br />the journey through the lush Shenandoah; <br />the gentle rain; the thunder that made us fugitives. <br />But we returned to the places of our keeping, <br />tacit agreement in place never to speak of our criminalization. <br /> <br />I read your card, and foresight crystal clear, <br />I checked 'unable to attend' <br />and sealed the return envelope <br />with one last kiss. <br /> <br />You should honeymoon in Australia. <br />I've never been, but I hear it's lovely this time of year, <br />so cool, so clear, and already tomorrow- <br />that much farther from the memory.<br /><br />Christopher Parcels<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-invitation-7/
