Just about Yosemite

A former lover called me recently.

I thought he was about tomatoes and garden,

Family dinners and hiking, recovery, and fly-fishing,

Parametric statistics and poetry.

We had shared love.

China and desert, Cherry Garcia and data,

Laughter and laughter and laughter.

I thought he was about majestic music,

Jimmy Buffet and Ann Wolff,

Sailing on bays and lakes,

Christmas and holidays together,

Photography, snapshots, and poems.

He said I was wrong.

He said he was just about Yosemite.

Nothing else.

I thought he was about sukiyaki,

Kung pao chicken and enchiladas

I thought he was about fruit stands

And saving the planet and the community.

He said he was just about Yosemite.

Nothing else.

I thought he was about new software,

Flying on and off the ground. I thought he

Was about movies, F. Scott Peck, and tennis.

I was sure he was about new adventures,

Fog-kissed mornings, sizzling sunsets, and starry nights.

He said I was wrong. He said he was just about Yosemite.

I thought he was about love, acceptance, and forgiveness.

I was wrong. He was just about Yosemite.