Reversing

I wasn't ready to see him.

Thought he'd disappeared or moved

or finally became someone I could forget.

But there was the truck in the driveway,

backing up slowly,

and his face turned to look

through the rear window

and he saw me

and I couldn't look away.

The moment stretched.

His hand on the wheel,

his eyes catching mine,

all of it held

in that second of recognition—

the fact that neither of us had actually left,

that we were still here,

that some people

can't be unhappened.