too many
transitions
too many
thoughts
too many
memories
I had to give
myself
permission
to do very
little today
I sat there
lamenting
this and that
I sat there
thinking
I have hope
in God
I hope my
books will
do well
someday
the ones
I’ve written
and hope to
write
our brief
flurry of texts
reminded me
how sweet
how special
it is to be
loved by you
wanting you
remains
loving you
remains
that’s enough
for me
just you
if I wrote about
nothing it would still be you
always on my mind
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.
Acupuncture wiped me out.
I said no errands today. I’m
going straight back to
editing my great American
novel. But I was more than
half way to Trader Joe’s.
Got almond butter, coffee,
almonds. Forgot my special
tea. My regular tea will do.
My sweet muse, can you tell?
I’m writing about my day
but thinking of you.
Drug store and then home.
Now mid-afternoon, I made
lunch. My phone dinged.
My sweet muse, can you tell?
I wanted it to be you. May
I say it again? It is so true.
Every letter of your texts
love me and touch my heart.
I can feel every tap.
The phone dinged that two
packages were delivered to
the mail room. Not so. One.
The game of wait-and-see
begins. So, as I looked at the
clock I decided I needed a
late afternoon cup of tea.
Hot and sweet. Should bring
me back from the living dead.
My sweet muse, can you tell?
My tea made me think of
you, but you’ve had a hard
day. Feet ache, headache,
heartache, you texted. Hot
bath and bed for you.
My sweet muse, can you tell?
If I were there, I’d rub and
kiss the ache away.
I have no doubts that our
friendship was true love all
these years. Can’t go back.
I know. But I’d rewrite that
line. You know the line I’m
talking about.
“We are connected in love
forever, but must remain a
touch apart until…”
O my very dearest, I couldn’t
get past the “until” or end
it there! We won’t end.
I will love you always and
beyond until.
today might be described
as brain weary drink a lot
of water day
I’ve gotten half of things
half done and the other
half not done at all
my focus was gone
earlier and now the
day is gone
as I sit here recovering
from a few days of
high activity
and my massage today
I noticed some oil
still on my arms
immediately I thought
of you and that it is
your touch I long for
nothing else
I was going in one
direction but
my day
went in another
not a bad day just
filled with different
instead of
the same
I happened to look
up and it was
almost dark
four turned to six
you my sweet muse
are my constant
love on
days that slip away
you my sweet muse
are the joy of my
heart on
days that fall short
you my sweet muse
tell me words of
love that I’ve
never heard
what if I could write poetry
to you and little else
what if texting was illegal
with fines and stuff
what if cell phones and
all electronics were defunct
what if I was here and you
were there was permanent
what if I jotted down another
zillion more deterrents
my resolve to know you would
only grow until I was no more
my resolve to love you could
never be less only more
