I kept you at arm's length don"t know why I thought that you might know me
Just another branch broken in a thunder storm of my life's tree
No one thinks to actually talk, so lost is what it will be
I am used to hitting restart more times than justifiably
At any point, you could have communicated decidedly
I would have listened just as I waited many a time for thee
I forgave more times that most would have given you quite honestly
But running is easier than seeing truth confidingly
I made mistakes to which I would have atone for them completely
May you spend the rest of your life seeking a replacement for me
My Aunt Ethel told me
that nothing rivals
our family quilts
“Not for sheer artistry
or skill in design... BUT,”
here she leaned in
for emphasis-
“the secret is
the material itself!”
For nothing could rival
the intense radiance
of colors in florescent hues
And nothing could rival
the endless patterns
of electrifying
sometimes-psychedelic variety
And nothing could rival
the insulating quality
of thick fibers, so effectively
shielding against the cold
No, nothing could rival
the varied textures
the swirls, the swoops, geometric shapes
lines and grooves
“Yes,” she told me, confidingly-
“...the very best quilts are made of
polyester pant-suits!”
A young woman sits alone
silently weeping on the bus
like a flower
prettily wilted
against the windowpane
So he sidles over
in that funny way he has
so British and proper
buttoned up tight
sits next to her, leaning over
and confidingly says
“I’m sittin’ next
to the Most Beautiful
girl in the world!”
No pickup or come-on here
only innocent opinion
stated matter-of-fact
like a little child
“Not like” she mutters
and instantly regrets it
without looking she can feel
the bewildered hurt
upon his face
So they sit in silence
the rest of the ride
side by side
hot shame flowing down her face
calm confusion clouding his
Some time later
he steals her hand
insistently says- “I am!”
And swallowing hard
she squeezes his hand
wordlessly leaving
the Most Beautiful man