PICTURE ME, PICTURE YOU

   

I can still picture you

leaning back in your chair

talking to strangers

at the outdoor cafe

pulling their stories

from them, slipping past

their guard, slipping past

mine. Stomping ahead

down the street, angry

about something

you will not explain.

 

So young then, both

of us, so unknowing.

Each of us sunk in our

own skins, coveting

and refusing the other,

angry with each other

for reasons we did not

understand. Angry

in general, with politics,

with work, with injustice,

and we, so righteous

 

in our own mistakes

and misunderstandings,

so clear in our own

judgements. Your voice

a rumble undermining

my nights, shaking

my days. Vehemence,

we were both so

vehement. What are we

now? Just old. Only

tired. Hanging on.

 

It's hard to write a poem a day, even in the best of times. And this is not the best of times.

 

#poem-a-day #poem