Sometimes people have forgotten you
and they remember
and you talk
but you're different now
they're tracking a thing that isn't corporeal
and
before you can open your mouth,
touch them to prove
that who they seek
is dead, is gone, is ghostly as shadows at sun-down
they find you
and they whimper
and their eyes open widely
and you say,
I'm sorry.
If you are a new you
and they are a new they
your apology might mean something.
But you remember,
and you smile.
They remember,
and they smile.
Your conversation, lives
move on
you make more plans,
you swap more stories--
they're still different.
You're still sorry.
