Wonder of the World

On the bottom right hand corner
of the L.A. Times around three years ago
was a picture of a stone fist
thought to be part of the Colossus of Rhodes,
the golden statue that once overlooked the Minoan Harbor

Fumbling around for a seat belt
when I was seventeen,
my knuckles brushed against yours in the white volkswagen
and I wished you would take me to the fox hills motel
rather than straight home
but your eyes revealed no interest

Last night your knuckles brushed
my knee as you knelt before the couch where
we were all discussing electromagnetic radiation
and the cancer clusters associated
with high power lines and telephone transformers
and you said good-bye again

If nothing else, I love your voice,
your flop sweats, and your dissatisfaction

I haven't heard anything since
about that lost wonder of the world
They never discovered the rest of it
But something stirs in my mind
when I think of that tense hand
with those giant white knuckles
against the floor of the Aegean Sea
clenched for centuries,
just waiting to open