June 2, 2012
across the meeting room table,
though she gives me a glance as she leaves,
all this talk about photo credits
somehow hiding the real issues,
my inability to keep from
rubbing salt into open wounds,
mine and yet more specifically hers,
I having posted poems
about having a gun held at my head
which I can’t take back,
missing the important message
she is trying to send me,
emailed back and forth,
giving credit where credit is due,
we all lost in the limbo
of missed feelings
and this sense of a train wreck
as whatever train we hoped
to have ridden on
went off its rail,
and we are left to pick up the pieces,
knowing that in this disaster,
we won’t find them all,
me, missing looking into her eyes
and hoping to see what’s behind them,
knowing now she has
built a wall
impenetrable
and perhaps necessary.
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