The New Old Crux

There was no knowing the truth of the matter, what was, what would be, and there is no knowing now. The small town lights shone in the cold, dry night, some may have illuminated lonely strangers and rats or quiet lovers parting, or strangeness in the night, and we’d never know, but somehow I hoped I might. I’d never been asked so plainly what mattered most, and in a peculiar moment I couldn’t say either way. I had comfortably tethered for fear of being untethered, but she may have tethered first, it was her greatest need. The small town windows and suburban windows beyond glowed, each in its place, around a person or a thing, or people and things, that we did not know and surely never would, I hoped I never would. There remains no knowing, what was oddly was, I’d say I don’t and didn’t care, but I stand alone with it now. 10th December 2018