Seeing the X

I met up with an ex today, X, one of my greater loves.
We had an intense affair for over a year which ended
in a bowl of tears which took over a year to evaporate.

X walked in the door and a part of me no longer knew
who he was. It's been 8 months since we've seen
each other and it felt strange. He's gained weight,

and his growing locks are in that in-between stage
when they don't know which way to point, stick.
But my darling in all of his weariness and intensity.

He returned from Ghana recently and he says it
changed his life and he doesn't know how yet. That's
fair. And to watch him form his words with crock pot

slowness, the shape his lips run to when he's
pondering --I felt removed from it. I love him,
but I don't love him anymore.

But then, as we watched my students performing
today, at some point he grabbed my hand and we
held. And I wasn't so removed. But I wasn't so moved

either. Not enough to even consider going down
those old dirt roads. But we held hands, and he kissed
me on the cheek before he left. Plane to catch. I stirred.

My student Zach took his empty place.
And it didn't smell as good.