Bench

Missing is gone 
having never had 
is longing felt
which is worse
I often wonder 
I have tasted 
the flesh’s sweetness 
felt its ripe
and succulents often 
for then having 
do I miss 
or only long 
for what’s remembered 
avoiding what remains 
which is nothing 
when reflecting back 
here I sit
on a bench 
wholly uncertain if
this is on
a trolley line 
taking me somewhere 
or a park
taking me nowhere