singular

at the goddamned bagel place again. alone.

sleepy couples cling to each other in the line to the counter,

ruffling tumble-about hair and snuggled into last-minute clothes,

somewhere between bed and public, they are usually easily ignored,

but occasionally they light the fire of recognition.

I never really believed I would get here, even as the fortune teller dropped it into

my eighteen-year-old ears.

and I wonder if I conjured it or if it was the way it's supposed to go.

but I know that the last years have held loneliness

and a certain uneasiness that it really is me

against the world, wrapped up in a fading package

doing my best to maintain the blinders

that keep me from recognizing the comfort 

in couples' eyes.