at first I was confused
by your behavior. I thought
maybe it was because
I had sent you some music
and you hadn’t had a chance
to listen to it yet. that’s
the kind of reason I avoid
people with whom
I have no real beef but the way
they remind me of
my own failings.
Continue reading to my friend who has been ignoring me for 30 days now
it was the moon’s day.
I slept late and long,
and when I rose
I did not know
if I was still dreaming.
we fought, and then made
angry love. you left, and I
took what I had wrested
from you and used it
to make a child, dark
and lonely as the night
that spawned her.
my stepbrother wrote to me
to tell me about his
eleven year old
daughter. she’s writing
a book, he said. she
reminds him of me.
she is about the age that I was
when my mother married
his father. it was not
at all like the Brady Bunch,
though my sister
and the two boys
might have thought so.
Debe Dalton has a song
about trying to be
a better person. I wish
I could relate, but
I am starting to think
I’m getting worse.
The Beatles sang
“I have to admit it’s
getting better”, but
John Lennon continued
to be a jerk.
won’t I ever
get sick of doing
the wrong thing?
everything was fine.
the night was
a great big juicy apple
and we were enjoying it
together.
until.
two tiny worms
rankled and crawled
at the bottom of
my heart and left
a bad taste
in my mind’s
mouth:
to the people
who were talking about us
while we were on stage:
fuck you! I didn’t even
hear your shitty ass
comments but they
distracted my boyfriend
and musical partner.
you’ve got some nerve.
if I knew who you were,
I’d call you out in a
very personal manner.
to be continued, you
motherfuckers.
you left it
open. to the elements,
to thieves, to squirrels,
to everyone
but me. you’re lucky
that all your crappy,
crappy stuff
was still there when
we came back
to the car. no one
stole your sweet ride,
just like no one stole
your sealed-up
heart.
N.B.: this is the poem
I didn’t write
back when said incident
occurred. is it the same
as what I would have done
then?
