YVONNE MORRIS
"How will we meet in real life?"

At a party, someone leans over and asks, "How did you two meet?" And you say, I traveled through time to tap him on the shoulder to let him know that I was waiting - and that I didn't want to wait any longer
"That was it?" the someone inquires and you say, no, no, there was much more to it than that - all the reminders
"Reminders?" someone is polite

Yes, you reply, all the cajoling, coaxing prayers, the early morning pleading
anxious working hours spent wondering instead, the weekends when everyone else,
you were sure, were perfecting their patties on their perfect patios and you were left with your dry-as-old-bones diary, endless dribbling journals feeling over all the little dents in the banged up body of your life
until finally, running for cover you found shelter under a canopy, and there, also waiting

with everything dripping wet and green all around, who should you bump into in this pouring rain--all awkward umbrellas and wrinkled raincoats - someone you hadn't seen before in this lifetime, but didn't it feel like it was just yesterday... but "wait, wait," someone is repeating, "what does this all mean?"
and you're out of breath, beyond redeeming, and you can only think to reply
that maybe (sometimes) love surrenders meaning, and that, you guess
is how we met