By James Enelow
I sit by myself.
In the memory of how I used to sit.
This is not comfortable.
Before I sat with you and was near
to only you.
Why is it such that now I must sit
alone
truly in privacy like never before.
Rows of playdo lay crumpled before me
shaping the recesses of my mind,
into fond memories of what and where we once were.
Why is it that we must learn to hurt
before we learn to even feel?
Why is it our loves must leave
for older men with pez dispensers.
I share my PB&J alone
to the crunchy way our love,
played out--together
in the kindergarten's of memory, we listen to and leave behind.
Reaching For Babylon | Growing the Perfect Beard | R.S. Thomas The Golden Age Gallery | John Wood | The Enelow Family Page Wendy Cope | Robert Olen Butler | Dylan Thomas The Hall of Poets |Phillip Larkin | Superman Alan Moore | Warren Ellis | Obsessions Planetary Annotations | Dr. Robert E. Nelsen The Unnoficial Sojourn Webpage | Chad Hansen's Page of Poetry Links | The Poem Library | Hall of Poets | Vitae | Terra Cotta