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.
6 comments:
so real
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...
good feelings rarely come doing something just because we can...
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
this poem is real...and this good sir!
Fabulous!
I have a huge grin on my face.
It's simple, quiet language...it's wonderful, singular image.
Good stuff!
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