(To Joo)
Bottle caps all over the floor;
some of us leave something behind.
Smile, dear; sunshine is nothing
if not that twinkle in your voice.
It was a sad day when she realized she was mortal.
“A hundred years from now,” she said,
“I won’t be around.”
And I’ll be sure to miss you, dear,
from wherever I am not then.
Underneath the scaffold papered with life’s residues,
on this frigid night, with life passing us by,
hurried on its Saturday,
blowing warm breath into its cupped hands
trying to capture some fleeting warmth,
I told her, I would never inflict this life on anyone.
It’s not the misery, I said,
It’s the boredom, the anticipation of nothing.
She smiled, knowingly;
caressing, if smiles ever could.
And I wasn’t so sure anymore.
Bottle caps all over the floor;
some of us leave something behind.
Smile, dear; sunshine is nothing
if not that twinkle in your voice.
It was a sad day when she realized she was mortal.
“A hundred years from now,” she said,
“I won’t be around.”
And I’ll be sure to miss you, dear,
from wherever I am not then.
Underneath the scaffold papered with life’s residues,
on this frigid night, with life passing us by,
hurried on its Saturday,
blowing warm breath into its cupped hands
trying to capture some fleeting warmth,
I told her, I would never inflict this life on anyone.
It’s not the misery, I said,
It’s the boredom, the anticipation of nothing.
She smiled, knowingly;
caressing, if smiles ever could.
And I wasn’t so sure anymore.
