Nothing Ever Does

I almost cried
when I found out you had come
to town and left again,
not only without telling me
but without even contacting me
in any way.

no call
no text
no fax
no telegram
no Morse code
no goddamn smoke signal.

the only reason I didn’t
break down in tears right then
was because I was not alone.
she was there all humble bragging
that it was all her fault, she
soaked up all your attention
with her drama and I
stupidly gave her the satisfaction
of seeing it upsetting me.

but forget her – Lord knows,
growing up, you always did –
what matters is what you did
or, as usual, failed to do.

you might have known,
or thought to wonder
if perhaps I might have needed
a few minutes of your
precious time – between your hair
appointments and doctor’s
appointments and lunches
and dinners and undoubtedly
some shopping – I would have
come all the way in from East BFE,
New Jersey to meet you for
but. you didn’t
even give me the opportunity.

and now you have the nerve
to write me all breezy and
“what is going on with you”
as if nothing happened.

I guess
for you
nothing did.

missed construction

the fact that
you even thought
that I would think
that your leaving
that window open
was some kind
of subconscious invitation
makes me laugh.

I wasn’t
even going to
go there. in fact I literally
had not noticed
the offending state
of said window
until you
pointed it out.

you’re the one
who presumed I would
think that, got
annoyed by the nerve of my
presumption, and then
sang a whole slam
about it.

okay, then. I’m
now the one
who is paging
Dr. Freud, on
your behalf. Siggy,
pickup line 1.