Pickled

Some say
your whole story
might only be
the longest series of choices
what you decided for
what you decided against.

I once decided
to drive around Lake Ontario
one summer night
all night
with a good
and fundamentally mismatched
and therefore platonic
friend
in his enormous car. Dashboard lights.
Mix tapes. Canada, by dark.
We stopped at 2am
past Toronto
in a field
a million stars
I closed my eyes
and sat on the bumper
and of course
being twenty
at the time
exuded

just kiss me

he chose
not to.
He decided
against it.
A good decision. A sensible
choice.

This is
always the problem
for me:
What happened
to your heart's desires
even
when not chosen
even
when decided against
all the times
you had no choice but to
give it up to someone
when it would have been
a little more sensible
and proper
and safe
to not shipwreck yourself
in that
particular way?

Where is
your other story
Where is
your other life
Do they write you
Do they call
and send you letters
with pictures
about what they're
doing now?