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One Hour and Thirty-Nine Minutes


I spent the afternoon over
thinking my options because
I don’t know what they are.

I didn’t want to think about
anything else so I watched a
stupid movie I missed in

nineteen eighty-one. It should
have stayed missed. It was
late. I studied and read

through dinner. I had enough
time for a movie. Hungry but
didn’t want to cook. I don’t

like salads, but I made a salad
and sat there for an hour and
thirty-nine minutes watching

pre-PC graphics that were
poor but not as bad as the
plot and acting. Of course I’d

say that; these graphics looked
like the Tempest arcade game
I was playing then. But no

thank you. I know you are
dying to ask me if I want to
go back. The answer is no.

Because I know what followed
and came before. It was hard
enough to live it the first time.

The kitchen will have to wait
until tomorrow morning; I’m
too tired. Loving from afar can

be tough. Bed after the movie
was my plan, but not my choice.
I’m sitting here instead. So,

what does all this mean? It means
that the only time I didn’t think of
you or miss you today was for

one hour and thirty-nine minutes.

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:

alslaff

Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)

I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)

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