I ought to learn
when not to hold my breath
or expect what I already know
I can't get,
not to cling as she put it
in her poem in February,
but to be one of those wise enough to run away,
especially when I
already know
she's run the other way,
and I have no way to catch up, nor should I try.
I miss all the back and forth after dark,
the tap, tap, tap and
then the beep for a reply,
the dirty talk that
shocks me,
the aspiration of what might be
I know now can never be
or rather is with someone other than me,
this lost in space or
time
(even Einstein can't tell which is why),
waking up at midnight or two or three
in the wrong kind of sweat,
feeling how empty the
world is
when I expected it to be too full,
I think of her.
No comments:
Post a Comment