Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The Break-Up- a Poem
104. The Break-Up 9/29/10
Poetry and I haven’t been on speaking terms for a while now.
Some ugly things were said, feelings were hurt, and
She stopped returning my calls a few months ago.
First, I tried to pretend I didn’t care.
I told myself she would call me back when we were both ready.
Then, I started to panic, and tried to call more often.
She answered the phone a few times, but I could tell her heart wasn’t really in it,
And all our conversations were glum, uninspired, nothing like they were before.
I spoke to a few people who know her,
And they all said she was fine, that she’d been returning their calls.
It’s very uncomfortable to need a friend who doesn’t need you.
Why should poetry speak to me when she has so many other, better friends?
I knew all I could do was wait.
I waited by the electric glow of the computer,
The threateningly blank page,
And I waited on walks,
talking to myself in the hopes that she might chime in.
After many months of wondering when I would talk with her again,
I had almost given up hope.
I was walking in another city, reading another writer’s conversation with her,
When suddenly- she was with me!
I tore off the back of a brown paper bag,
And, trying not to look too eager,
(I didn’t want to scare her away this time,)
We finally began to talk again.