Our 2 hour marriage

 I was 36, had not aged

She was splendid in her thoughts

 which ran from her mind

and through her eyes 

like silent, cool blue fires

Burdens were shared

Things I could not

Feel 

She honored them again

with her supple mind

And made them visible

Again and Again

She begged to be heard

With those desperate eyes

And I listened

We were married,

And

divorced

in those two hours

at the noodle restaurant

Divorced by the eyes of others...

Because this thing

could not survive 

In an age of the unreal

or in our present form

or with others

looking on

I'm unsure which

but with their roles

pressing into us

cutting into us like

border wires

Philosopher's guilt

Our shame

Our destiny

Our bond