I.
There is only room for one.
Concrete chairs keep the curious at bay.
No one loiters here.
Once a wayfaring stranger
didn’t mind the grit: the cold grey
contoured to his body.
II.
Our story captured in one shot.
An aesthetic choice?
We couldn’t afford more film.
III.
I did not want,
until you taught me to.
Him, a bad avocado.
Me, soft-bellied in a saltstorm.
I am off guacamole for life.
IV.
My builder-ant heart
carries fifty times its weight.
Just because it can doesn’t mean it should.
V.
I’m only happy when
I don’t know the whole truth.
Lie to me. Curb my urge
to know everything. I am learning to live
with being broken. I will forget what
I’m supposed to look like. Do not tell me.
Let me keep putting ketchup and
sliced cheese on bread. This, to me, is pizza.
Do not tell me otherwise.
VI.
Trying to save him
is like getting a Buckingham Palace
guard to smile.
If he quits his vices,
it will be for someone else.
VII.
Some days, I have a sense of humor.
I tell myself I’ll find a sugar daddy.
His kids will be my age.
They’ll call me “Mom.”
VIII.
Just because I can love, does not mean I should.
IX.
There is only room for one.
Some day, a wayfaring stranger
will bring me the finest pizza.
“What kind is this?” I’ll say.
I can hardly taste the ketchup at all.”
More poetry at Used Furniture.
“Just because i can love, does not mean i should” – this is so true and so good. Outstanding! Simple words that say so much.