say good-bye

In the summer of 1979
I slipped away from
human contact.  Days were
spent catching tadpoles,
rummaging around in
abandoned cars left in a
ravine close to our home,
and stripping off my clothes
and sun-bathing in our
neighbor's apple orchard.  It
was then that I realized I
was destined to journey
by myself.  It seemed better
that way.  I could discover
things on my own.  I could
stick them in a pocket
and let them be my secret.
My very own.  The time
drifted by in a glow of
sticky, humid Iowa days.
And here I am some thirty-three years later and I
find it just the same.  Endless
days spent by myself are better.  I can put the moments
in my pocket to remain my
very own.  No one to negate
the joyessness I find.  No
one to lead me away from
my very own discoveries.
No one to eventually
say good-bye.