not a love poem

by on September 12, 2018 :: 1 comment

she asked
“Where have you been?
Why haven’t you written?
Want some pizza?”
“I’ve been hiking in the mornings
smoking pot on the trails
thinking about eagles and wooden mermaids”
like a wolf
low humming growl
glinting ocular orbs slit
“Who is she?”
“There’s no one”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“There hasn’t been in years
I like my solitude”
“If I didn’t exist, would you be with her?”
“There’s no one.”
“Is she the mermaid?
Does she swim to you in wet dreams?”
“I like being alone.”
“BULLSHIT”
silence – but there’s an emanating
underlying white noise – mounting
“I’d like to continue my walk.”
anticipation
gripping tighter, my coffee’s paper cup
“You’re going through
an awful lot of lengths to protect her.”
“Who?”
seconds pass
“Who?”
swoops like a bird,
arms spread wing-span
popped out wide awake eyes
“WHO!-WHO!” high pitched
“What are you a fuckin’ owl?!” she accused
unlike an owl I’ve accrued no wisdom

editors note:

Woke, if not wise. - mh clay

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