poem

The last time we talked

I made up the calmest of excuses

to disguise what was

quite obviously, a meek subterfuge.

Using academia as the backdrop for our one-act play

that I could have written

in the space that occupies the length of a day.

You were charmed at my interest

charmed, yet somewhat shocked.

Described the programs your best,

but I never planned to pursue.

And then you asked for the numbers

that, at the time, seemed to be my address.

But I'm always in transit, always stuck at some commute

so who really knows.

The last time we talked

it wasn't personal and driven by the shortness of our time

yet I remained pulled towards you

like any other human driven by the rules of gravity.

And the packages they came, but they were to be discarded

all our memories

like the winter to the spring, always departing.

not one of my best.