I think Thief delves into the idea that not all valuable relationships last. But just because something is passing or transitory doesn't mean it's unsuccessful or a mistake.

When I was in my late 20s I had a relationship that went on too long and never withstood any test; I was glad when it was finally over. But I'm not sorry I loved the man or opened myself to his world, at least for a time.

I suppose a relationship like that might represent failure or a foolish choice — you know, it's contrary to pop songs like "Put a Ring On It" and even to the idea of true love. I loved any number of people, but either I didn't stay with them or they didn't stay with me. But I don't discount those relationships. They were real and true.

I'm not sure which of William Dickey's books contains this poem, but it's anthologized in Robert Mezey's Poems of the American West. I know I've had a typed version of it in my poetry files for the past 30 years.

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On His Way Home to Wyoming

We were too brief to expect to keep in touch.
The traffic stream has carried you past my stop.
I am no time you should remember much:
the moment of tenderness your mind lets drop
the way a cigarette drops from the hand
of a lover who is drunk or half-asleep
and harmlessly burns out. I understand
the pleasure of having what we need not keep.

And when you leave, I understand the pleasure
of silence, of keeping my body to myself,
of washing your glass and putting it on the shelf,
of measuring out the day to my own measure,
at ease, not glad, not sorry that you have gone,
the bed stripped bare, the clean sheets not yet on.

                                                —William Dickey