“The descent to Avernus is easy”

(facilis descensus averno)

— Virgil, Aeneid, Sybil

The Minotaur

Tonight, I’ll ascend—or descend—
to the deepest specter
of my memory of you:

You and I at a gas station
in Los Angeles:

you are not the usual you.
You are transformed.

At the corner
there is a laundromat.

From down the street
you once walked toward me.

I recall.

You looked different then.

Maybe because in those days
you loved me.

And I still bid you good night,
invoking you, beloved Dulcinea.

We enter a liquor store
under its fluorescent neon lights
to buy a Mega lotto ticket.

We have done this exact thing
many times.

With the prize money
I’m buying you a house.

Now I know—we know—
we will never go back.

That door has slammed shut
behind us.

There is a long labyrinthine corridor
waiting in front of me.

I am the slain Minotaur.

You are—knife in hand—
penetrating the darkened corridor

You are looking very small—

vanishing.

There is no going back there either.

I know.

That’s one more sealed door
in the specter of things.

That still hurts.

Soon we will forget all this.

I have amputated you.

The doors that shut behind us
are impenetrable.

Only a dream
will open them shut.