and took me aside to tell me I was just in time
     to attend the funeral I didn’t know about—

for the first love I had met on a summer job
     and with whom I shared my first intimacy

other than a kiss, her roommate passing
     through the bedroom one evening smiling

while muttering, Carry on. My parents questioned
     whether she was the right one. She wasn’t.

After my first month at grad school, I drove 400 miles
     for a surprise visit only to discover

she was out on a date. So, thirty years later, I declined
     a last goodbye in favor of a first hello.