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March 15, 2018

No response,

I’m hungry.

So am I,

Beggar and poor man.

I turn my lip up,

As I leave my home.

Change one letter in each,

You get her name.

Her dear name,

I’ll see you next week.

Dear one, it’s next week,

Or never. But Monday, no.

But Tuesday, no,

You understand. I know this.

Once, I was sick with depression,

Then you came.

Now, I’m sick with depression,

But you’re here.

A strange number,

I pass your street.

By chance, I pass your street,

Every day, I pass your street.

In hopes to cross your path,

I look down the narrow way.

To your home inherited,

I know. Father deceased.

Glad to not have been there,

For I deal not with mourning.

Comfort, I provide not,

If my father of mine ….

No tears would be wept,

He’s not a hard man, but old.

Old in his nature,

And you, dear one. How was your father?

Who left to you his home,

Full of books, irregularly eccentric.

You, dear, your gifts come from afar,

Gifts bought for yourself.

For, who else is there?
When father’s deceased, there is who else?

Fights over this home,

Pleasant fights, but for now, it’s yours.

And I, I await the week to come,

You, full schedule.

Dreaming of a quiet life,

As a swan, perhaps.

Perhaps as a child,

Perhaps as a lost teen.

Troubled, with one good friend

Who remains. When first we met.

I recall it well …. the deception,

But all’s now well timed.

Doing good, I do not,

You know what calls you.

What calls to you, dearly,

But it didn’t last.

It never lasts. Not for you,

Dear one, in dear rags.

All that comes from afar

Is never rags: it’s playthings.

Who knows your way of life,

This, I know not.

This, you keep close to your chest,

And, the secrecy intrigues.

Several lines to sing of love,

Several well meaning antidotes.

Your antihistamine. I didn’t know,

I didn’t know of what you spoke.

I failed to understand, as did we all,

You broke a heart. Not my own.

You were intrigued. A zebra charged,

How it arrived here, I don’t know.

How we arrived here, it’s never clear,

But, dear one, it must be true.

For you are true; you are real,

You are really before my eyes.

And under my nose,

But, how did you get here?

Why do you find yourself here?

You are foolish, love, and dear.

Will we offend, as do others?

As did others. When we were aware.

Fully aware. This pleased me,

Little else. But, all will now be dear.

You say one thing; I say another,

I tire of this conversation. I laugh.

He lies on the ground!

They’re known to do as such.

You chose this life, it seems,

A fleeting thought. But when ….

When to make a response ….

The perfect response …. never.

Even you and I, dear: never quite,

Will we grow old: never quite.

Will friendships die?

Possibly I’m prepared for all.

What favourites will be shared?

What differences will be cherished?

Will you share my second home?

Or will you remain at home?

Inherited home. No rent here, it seems,

For mine was bought, with aid.

Life, for us, will be easy,

You’ll now have three homes, dear.

I recall. Once, I made you late,

Your love awaited, with impatience.

You apologised, too late,

I was glad that you were late,

Due to me. Another drink ….

A strange way home.

Chosen by you, dear one,

You like your loves local.

Perhaps myself also,

Tapping your fingers.

Buying drinks that are never drunk,

Never to be put to bed.

Once, I walked you home,

To Canada. Canada the second.

Canada played a major hand in our game,

The deck. A card short.

Only the joker, but troublesome all the same,

And then she arrives, that other.

With a broad smile. A first,

But, this only brings sadness.

Now, she’s dead. It’s now you, love,

We’ll live love, until ….

We know it’s finite, this love,

But needed, for …. it will be true.


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