I have spent the days of your absence visiting a theme park I have gotten tickets to before where the rides, instead of helping the visitor to blissfully forget, tend to harp on the old themes of life.
The man at the ticket gate smiled when I gave him the money. I keep him in business and he hopes I’ll be back again. The roller coaster of my emotions has no choice, moving from happiness down to fear and back up again.
I have avoided the tunnel of love like a plague, preferring to leave old lovers in the boat floating away through the darkness with whomever they have found to accompany them on the journey. Though I must admit that I cannot glance at the cluttered side seats without a tinge of regret.
In the haunted house, the skeletons burst out of the shadows, jaws clacking with doubt that you will be loved by someone other than I. Ghosts, created by my fears, move before me through the rooms. I recognize them for what they are and at the exit I find they fade away like smoke.
Then I am back, sitting in my car outside the oil lube place watching line after line of Canadian geese fly south along the Blue Ridge to the east, thinking of you in a plane flying home back to me.