The trouble was, you fell in love with him.
Foolhardy, but not hard to understand.
You traded jokes, and drafts, and writing tips—

This painful cut, that poignant synonym.
He finally retired his ampersand.
You learned to say “ellipsis,” not “ellipse.”

As penpals you were perfect, or almost.
You liked the way he made you feel as young
As when we met. You liked the way his life

Was nailed down halfway to the other coast.
You told me—and it hardly even stung,
Because I knew, because he had a wife.

In time, of course, the conference weekend came.
You asked for my permission, and I gave it.
What happened that first night I only heard

When you got home. You seemed almost the same,
But something had been lost. You couldn’t save it.
Since then, your friend, he hasn’t said a word.