as he did

It is a ceding of time and territory
and
possibility. They are where he was
30 years ago – and he is
jealous and he can’t help
it. Their canvasses are
blank, ready to be marked,
colored,
painted,
trimmed,
folded. Some has already
taken place. His is
cast, he thinks, indelibly. He tries
to convince himself that it
hasn’t been finished, yet, but he knows, too,
that some of
the colors
have been set
irrevocably, indelibly.
So, he wishes them
godspeed and
wishes,
too,
he could go with
them on their journey, if not just
to
be there. But they travel
alone, as
they
should. As he would.
As
he
did.