Jealousy pangs. But stay on. In a mind like mine. You might be surprised. Because the unspoken is unknown. As we are unaware. Of possibilities of such. In the very first place. You’d be unable to tell. What it is that is missing. If I wake up. A day too late. I was reading a Chapter. Of a book I cannot remember. For a cure. He tells of his love. On a hill. I face a series. Of contingent choices. Upon which I cannot escape. To a vantage point. For less than a second. You look a lot like him. But you cannot walk. On water. Our endlessness suspended. My wanting. Waits.