Near Miss

If you had left work ten minutes earlier

I would have made it to my yoga class on time

You would have walked in the door
At 5:15 instead of 5:25
And sat with our son and his summer fever
While I sought inner peace for 60 minutes
In Community Room 3

If you had gotten home ten minutes earlier
I wouldn’t have had time to work up a lather
Watching for your car to pull up
And we wouldn’t have argued about your lateness
And those damn baseball cards you bought

By 5:50 I would have been breathing
And sweating and shaking
Through Triangle Pose and Side Plank and Warrior One
And dying for Corpse Pose
To put an end to it all

I wouldn’t have admitted defeat at 5:55
And turned my car toward home
Just shy of my destination
Too late for a graceful entrance
And too mad for inner peace anyway

I wouldn’t have walked back in the door at 6:25
And told you I was going for a walk
Alone
And that I’d bring my phone
But don’t call me (unless his fever gets worse)

I wouldn’t have crossed the street
And ducked into the woods
Where no one could see me
Except whatever it was with the long black tail
That slipped into the undergrowth

If you had gotten home earlier
I wouldn’t have walked past that fallen tree beside the path
Roots exposed as they never intended
Toes in the air, dangling clumps of dirt
Spilling their secrets like an outed lover

I wouldn’t have emerged, swatting flies
Into the field of close-cropped stubble
Dirty blond with dusty breath
Cutting my ankles
And coating my shoes with powdered earth

I wouldn’t have felt, without a moment’s warning
Sun and rain falling equally on my shoulders
A freak cloud in a cloudless sky
Washing and drying in one efficient step
My hair, my cheeks, my legs, my back, my arms

I wouldn’t have sought out the fishing pond
Just past the field
Where I took our son when he was not yet two
Where we threw grass and sticks and leaves and flowers
For hours, to watch them float away

I wouldn’t have remembered carrying him
When it was time to go
Away from the pond, across the field, against his will
Enraged and thrashing (he has his mother’s temper)
Until he fell asleep in the woods, in my arms

If you had been on time
I wouldn’t have recalled his baby hair, shining copper in the sun
Pressed against my cheek
And plastered to his forehead
With the sweat of so much effort

I wouldn’t have smiled
To think of his gorgeous fury
A brand new will
Pitted against the incomprehensible constraints
Of an old world

I wouldn’t have laughed to think of my own indignation
When the fortification of clock and calendar
By now old and trusted friends
Were breached against my will
And I was forced to slip outside and have a look around

I wouldn’t have sat on that bench by the pond
Alone, in the sun and rain
With cuts on my ankles and dust on my shoes
With roots and sticks and fury and its aftermath
On my mind 

If you had left work ten minutes earlier
I wouldn’t have remembered
How to walk away
And I wouldn’t have known when
And why to walk back