fifty years ago i was in first love

we were intoxicated with each other

talked on the phone for hours about nothing

and we built a mythos around stuffed bears

and called each other “bear” too

read milne’s pooh books to each other

named members of her bear collection hair bear, bear hair, stranjber, the timid scare-bear, the red-capped festive bear, and so on

and sometimes the notes i wrote my sweetheart were in the persona of “annonamus bear”

signing the note “annonamus bear” and adding a couple of cartoon bear paws next to the signature

and always adding a postscript signed a. bear

.

alas, stupid choices and insane actions on my part led to the protracted ending of our relationship

and even five decades later occasional overwhelming regret wells up within me

and i hadn’t thought of annonamus bear at all this century

until today

for no reason I know

and here he is now, tiny, on my left shoulder

and except for “hi” he hasn’t said a word

but he implies plenty through his blackdot eyes

“don’t you miss the crazy magic?” say his eyes

“what good does frittering your day away in your unshared apartment do?” say his eyes

“learn from what you have loved” say his eyes

“this carnival ride will be over before you know it” say his eyes

.

alas, a. bear only knew me as a young pup and not as a sleepy, regretful old man

it’s a lot harder to find late-life love than his eyes say

but he has a point