From Behind - May 16 2021

 

From Behind

May 16 2021

 

I saw them from behind.

 

The measured pace,

as if not only in no hurry

but nowhere to go.

The journey

an end in itself.

 

The backs of their heads,

blank slates

for every couple in love

any face I imagine.

 

Their hands finding each other

then ever so lightly brushing.

Their grip shifting

and fingers probing

and touch tightening

until they were closely interlocked,

a single clenched fist

swaying in time with their gait.

 

Did I feel illegitimate,

a voyeur

surreptitiously taking them in?

 

A parasite,

feeding on their happiness

as if I could somehow inhabit their life?

 

Or envious,

longing for a kind of love

so effortless

present

at ease with itself?

 

You sometimes see those couples

who grope and kiss and hug

with adolescent abandon,

who might as well undress each other

unselfconscious and in public.

But that's lust, not love;

the urgency of sex

in place of contented attachment.

 

Which is so much harder to find

yet can last a lifetime.

 

We are all romantics at heart,

even those who have lost

or fallen out

or never stood a chance.

 

Even glamorous sisters

and spinster aunts

and women who live with cats.

 

Even a single man

who stays unattached

and keeps his hands to himself.

 

This picture appeared in today's online edition of the New Yorker, headlining a collection of short stories for Sunday reading.  I wasn't in the mood for fiction, so read no further. And I barely glanced at the picture before continuing to scroll down. But it stuck with me. It reminded me of all the couples I've seen walking hand-in-hand. It speaks to romance, love, and attachment.

I'm single. I would accurately be labelled a confirmed bachelor. (Which I mean literally, and not as an allusion to gayness!) But my feelings are complicated. There is clearly some envy. I'll let the poem speak for itself.

I chose the title for two reasons. It's taken from the opening line, so doesn't give anything away. But it also speaks to the sense of exclusion, as well as the slightly guilty feeling of observing while being unobserved. (And no, not a reference to the rather impressive endowment of the woman in the photo!)