If, if I
Objects in the mirror are more distant than they appear
If I had known that we would not see each other again,
could I have shown they had always been good to me,
that it wasn’t their fault, it wasn’t her fault, it was my fault.
If I had known it was the last time I’d see you,
I could have told you I love you,
then asked if you’d heard me, I said did you hear me.
If I had known I would never see him again,
would I have said don’t get in that car tonight,
don’t drive off with her tonight.
If I had known it was my last chance to talk to him,
I should have said thank you,
you taught me how to laugh at myself.
If I’d known I’d never hear you lecture us again,
I ought to have focused less on the girl with curly blond hair
and the intoxicating smell of her new boots.
If I had known she was leaving for good,
I would have unbridled the fury,
made her touch my raw pain.
If I had known it was his last concert,
I would have stayed sober,
maybe understood why he was singing.
If I had known it was your last night,
I might have given you more carrots
and said thank you for teaching me.
If I had known I wasn’t ever coming back,
I could have acknowledged your kindness,
not just disappeared into a still-dark morning.
