The End of Rhyme

For Gavin

I do not have cold feet. I am afraid,
When this is finished, I will have to find
Something else to do besides write
Chatty letters and love poetry.

As much as coffee, your e-mails have
Become a part of my morning routine.
How should I wake up to a blank screen—
Nothing from Gavin Dillard? I mean,

We close this book, one chapter of our lives,
Begin another one tonight, in flesh,
Fresh ink, fresh paper, new possibilities.
The words we’ve written will remain. But

What will we make of all that we have done
When we wake in San Francisco? Will
We leave behind those separate lives
We lived before? How will we appear

To one another in the morning? How
Much older, fatter, or more frail,
A thousand years from now? I hope we’ll be
Associated then, at least on paper,

Less with art, than a belief in love.
Though Maui and New York, 6,000 miles,
Age, HIV, experience, different
Styles of writing and sleep schedules

Might have concluded things another way,
Before we found a publisher, you
And I found Bryan. Here we go then. Down.
I must put my laptop away. It seems

We’ve started our descent for Oakland.
I will be holding you in a few hours.
Meanwhile, I plan to close my eyes and pray
We both land safely. What else can I say?