The rough departures are the hardest sort
When though you say goodbye you cannot leave
And not, this time, because you find good sport
In hesitation, nor because you weave
A conversation all around the act
Entangling it in words; I mean the time
When you have parted, and made it a fact,
But then you turn and find you both must climb
The selfsame staircase, and you cannot part,
Or, having left, you find your paths the same,
Even though one should have a head start,
And cannot greet, but meet again in shame.
These are the awkward places I live in
The games where play itself precludes a win.
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