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Poezii Românesti - Romanian Poetry

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Nowhere is Lying
poetry [ ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [whompingwillow ]

2008-12-04  |     | 



I walk along the dusty boulevard
(I don't even know what the means, boulevard)
It's a street at least

I'm holding my ipod in one hand,
my gloves are on, it's cold
I take out my cell phone
and glance at the screen
No messages
(Why did I even
look? Did I think
she would call?).
Back in the pocket.

It takes me forever to get where I
am going,
forever to take my eyes off the phone
it takes forever for me to move on
to consider it done,
thrown away.

My heart clings on
like the resting geese wait to go south.

One time,
I was walking along
and saw a goose,
a lone goose
so far behind
the others were in the next state.
Without the others,
it was squawking its heart out
"Honk! Honk!" it said
(It was so sad,
I felt like picking
it right out of the sky
and hugging it, taking it home)
It flew past me, above my head,
trying to find it's way
up there.

I want to throw my phone away
in the trash.
And never look at its stupid blank screen.
Old and bulky, a dull scratched cover
I want an iphone
but
its contract isn't up for another year
(Will I finally be over this then?)
Boring and gray plastic,
that loves to ridicule,
swaying in my pocket of emptiness -
Don't steal my calls. You too are helpless.

Little flip-phone, do you feel the
panicked grasp of my hand,
anxious to feel your ringing vibrations?
Do you know what it's like to touch her hair?
(It's wonderful)
Leave it alone. I won't be taken
Forever picking you up, perhaps
prying your crack of deep darkness open
I look her up in
my puny list of contacts.
I will get rid of you one day, little phone.

That lone goose I saw kept honking,
Each squawk more hoarse and tired.
Friends were found
in his head
but not around.
They left and
I am sure the goose
did not survive the winter.
It is just too cold out there alone.

I grab my ipod, turn up the volume
(I don't care if it hurts my ears)
And fling myself away from thoughts.
My coat is just beginning to tear
around the seams as
Thoughts of Kindness,
her kindness.
Towards everyone in her life.
My gloves just aren't warm enough -
And Her Eyes,
their laughter as I tell
another
boring
joke.

.  |










 
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