Expanse 

Asphalt.

A large expanse of it.

Left to right.

It goes on forever,

   or so it seems to them.

And who's to say it doesn't?

Just how far it goes

does not matter to them,

for all that they care about

is what they can see,

and at this moment, 

they can see much 

too much of it.

Here, just now,

their concern lies

with the forever expanse of

this side to that side.

They are here and 

they want to be there.

Yet all there is    is asphalt.

Just asphalt.

Just asphalt and them.

Them.

They are a couple.

They are man and woman.

They are lovers.

They are special. 

They have special needs. 

They are mentally deficit.

They stand at the edge of the curb.

Both of them frantically looking 

to the left; now, 

both  to the right;

now, out of sync.

One looking left; one right.

Now alternating.

Now again, and again.

Now, once more together in sync.

I use the word frantic,

but that's not exactly right.

I look into their eyes and 

see a certain glimmer—a certain sparkle.

Something else is there.

Their hands clasp at each other's.

Oh, it's not that one wants his

or hers to overlap the opposite's.

Rather, that they both desire

to have each other's hands

safely enfolded within the other's embrace.

Each one wants the other

   to be in control.

Each one wants the other

to be in charge of 

this moment's decision.

Within their lives, how often

have they had to make a decision?

They've led entire lives 

with all decisions being 

made by other adults.

Adults different than them.

Other adults for whom

decisions come so easy.

And here now, again,

    it is just them.

Just them and the asphalt.

The asphalt and cars.

This way and then that way.

It's just an expanse of asphalt

but when is it     just

an expanse of asphalt?

A decision.

   A decision.

      A decision.

Just now, my car passes

and I look in my rear view mirror

to see them bolting across the expanse.

Bolting in unison.

Bolting, and yet with 

all four hands clasped tightly together.

Across both their faces is

not so much fear as to what

they've just undertaken,

but yet,    exhilaration.

They are laughing.

They are squealing.

They are overcome with joy.

Across this expanse of asphalt,

they have joined with you and I.

They are alive, 

and isn't that 

a thrill?

Ó99 Jack David Hubbell