...We have
Our separate worlds as well, my ghost and I.
We mingle, catch each other’s eye, and then
Away, alone, to what we know, or think
We know. But even what we know is there
We cannot grasp for long. There’s something in
The middle of what we know that we don’t.
And maybe (very possibly, in fact,
Although I cannot say for sure) there’s some
Thing in the middle of what we do not
Know that we do. When I asked my old man
What he thought of it, he said: “no one knows
What no one knows.” And we embraced before
The terminal gate, saying our good-byes.
I stood and watched him from the other side
Of the security check, when he turned
For his one last look back at me. And then
I knew. I knew that he knew. But we didn’t
Know what to do with what we knew. Which seems
To be the case at times like these. Good-byes,
I mean. And last good-byes especially.