"But that's not what I said", he said, "You are
Making up a story. I'm not in it."
She slapped the armrests. He glanced at the car-
Light moving on the ceiling. He couldn't
Look at her. She said "Can't you even look
At me when I'm talking?". He said "No. I
Can't even see you. In here." Then she took
His hand, which he left there but limp. Then: "Why
Do you even invite me here? I don't
Feel welcome here. You make me want to leave."
"Again", he sighed. He rolled away. "I won't
Try to stop you this time." He hardly breathed.
The edge of doom: all these brief days and weeks
They had walked it 'til they began to speak.
Feck, man, this kills me. It's gorgeous and it makes me want to write poems again. Or build the most beautiful bicycle and give it to the saddest person to ride.
ReplyDeleteI want you to want to write poems again. Thank you for saying it's gorgeous. Thank you for offering to build me a most beautiful bike.
ReplyDelete