not much difference

the colors of the first room we made love in
fit on the same color wheel as
the colors of the last room we shared,
hurling tears at each other like knife throwers.
the man you picked after me was not so
different from the woman I stumbled
upon after you. there was not much difference
between the way you took your clothes off and
the way you put them on – just, your hands
and legs moved forward or in reverse.
there is not much difference between the
times of beauty that I remember and the
absences in between that I’ve forgotten.
I do remember when you crossed your legs in the dark
and then crossed your legs the other way
and then crossed your legs back the other way,
back and forth, moving like a water strider
as you sipped a whole spectrum of martinis.
but years later, there is not much difference
between that moment and if it never existed.
nothing in the world would bend or sway that much differently
if we had never met. the world isn’t so different
whether it’s here or there, visible or invisible.
far away from our love and the world,
there are places where nothing makes
a difference and everything is the same.