I don’t know what it means.
If we still communicate, it is at the most distant level
possible, passing on press releases to each other, but nothing more.
I suspect she checks my blog to see if I’ve breeched our agreement,
at which point she can drop the A-bomb on me.
Today, I took down anything that seems too angry or that
might be mistaken as directed at her.
I missed yesterday’s good bye party for our temporary boss –
even though he really isn’t leaving, only reverting back to the position he
held before our real boss went out on maternity leave.
I compiled a list of excuses as to why I couldn’t go, and
then had to reinvent them when the celebrants changed the day by one day.
Amid all that good cheer, I’m not sure I could have endured
the silence.
She won’t text me since she knows I won’t fall for that twice
and won’t add to the body of evidence she appears to be compiling, even though
some of what she considers evidence is extremely suspect. Of if doesn’t know,
she must suspect I won’t, if indeed, she even thinks about me at all.
If it wasn’t for massive number of poems she posted one
weekend at the end of May, I would think she is glad to be rid of me.
Her poems suggest I mean more to her than I could ever have
imagined – a total shock since I was under the impression, I ceased meaning
anything at all.
My strategy has been to create enough space so I can recover
and get on with my life.
I ought not to read her blog, and wouldn’t, if it weren’t
for the fact that she is such a stunning poet.
Poetry has always been my weakness going back well before
college, and the collection of people who made up my life, people from whom I
could learn things.
I could learn a lot from her if only there wasn’t all this
other stuff going on.
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