Open Mic at Art6 Gallery

Open Mic at Art6 Gallery

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

The Last Time

I don't know what it was.
It wasn't love.
It wasn't lust.
It wasn’t even sex.
I think it was one of those episodes
where two people were looking for
a physical touch just to break the cycle
of sameness in their lives. 
Feelings and intimacy were irrelevant,
just two bodies going through
adult motions all because
time allowed it.  But afterward,
I had to tell myself
We’re not doing this again.
Silence is what I need
as I drive back down the highway
trying not to think about
why I even drove up it:
Why did I converse with her?
Why did I even answer her
response on the online site?
Now I watch the trees

pass my forward vision and into
the sight of my rear view mirror,
no more memories to make.
Because I’m not going back.


Kristina said...

so real

Brian Miller said...

you know....sometimes the flesh has other thoughts than we...and we find ourselves here...but firm that resolve because i think you have realized there is nothing there but air...

Mark Windham said...

good feelings rarely come doing something just because we can...

Joseph Hesch said...

There's a lesson in this poem about the decisions we make in life and regret. We have only each precious present moment in our lives. Here, gone, next moment.

Regret will not change what happened, but it will inform this next moment. This narrator has just been so informed.

Thoughtful piece, Vernon.

~ j

Old Ollie said...

this poem is real...and this good sir!

Kenny Olembo said...

I have a huge grin on my face.
It's simple, quiet's wonderful, singular image.
Good stuff!