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
One with Clay, Image and Text 