Sunday, June 18, 2006


I beat around the bush
Like a gardener paid by the hour
And tell her that I’m only
“Sort of interested.”

After all
it was a test.
For power, for control, or maybe
Something far more sinister than that?

I think I wanted
To see how manly I was. And for
A short while I could, simply

By putting something beautiful
On hold. Saying “no.”
For the sake of that one
Sweet syllable moving across
The chapped ridges of my lips

And how far I’ve come
From that stubborn little boy
On the playground, pulling pigtails
And running away.

What kind of person must I be
To spit in the face of perfection,
Dropping to my knees

And then begging for its forgiveness?

Looking back
I simply wanted a reaction,

To test the waters
Of happiness before
Leaping in. Wondering
How many ripples
It could possibly take
To calculate my stupidly

What is it about a man
Who can push such things away?
How can the fear of being loved
So quickly chalk up to weakness?

I can’t stand to stare
At things above or beyond my level.

So instead
I knock them down
and tear them up.
Smiling at the shapes the pieces make.

I’ve been twenty-something forever,
Going on the age of twelve.

All I really need
Is a broom.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

didn't this get posted last month too?