Inspiration in the Art of Saying “No”

Reticent, unhelpful, rude:

You criticize my attitude.

Why be this way? I'll take a stab:

Out of all the things we have

Time is the most ephemeral

and the only indestructible,

But you spend mine like money,

Eat it up like it was candy,

and burn through it like kindling.

That just ain't my thing.

All Curves and Billows

Powered by sunlight and passion and caprice

I have never seen you move from A to B.

Instead, all curves and billows,

You simply wind and flow,

and the world is content to follow.

You are not my favorite kind of person:

People I know.

You are not my least favorite kind of person:

People I don't know.

Instead, you are the difficult kind of person:

Someone I would like to know.

I Wasn't Listening, Pt. 2

An incomplete list of what's wrong:

1. I have a listening problem.

2. You are dead and gone.

An incomplete list of what I didn't hear:
1. Your fear.
2. Your despair.
3. You couldn't find escape anywhere.

4. Your silence.

An incomplete list of what it meant:
1. Someone.
2. Anyone!
3. I'm almost done.

An incomplete list of my reactions:
Then: Nothing.
Since: No learning.

There's silence out there I'm still not hearing.

I Wasn't Listening, Pt. 1

I wasn't listening, and now you're upset.

I wasn't listening. You're playing depressed.

I wasn't listening. That's probably wrong.

My ears are all red, you've been talking so long.

You won't find apologies you've asked for here.

My trouble with listening: you've talked off my ear.

Awash in an Ocean of Faces

Our culture, awash in an ocean of faces,

Brings pasts to the shore in the strangest of places,

and seeing the face of someone I knew

Is supposed to recall those times past. I assume.

My truth is, a face calls just a person to mind.

It seems that some watch doesn't tick in my mind.

Put On Humanity

So many hours wasted arguing between

The good face and the evil one put on humanity,

Which is just as good as ground beef. You learn this on your own:

A person can't gain sustenance from humankind alone,

Which goes bad when left out too long in wrong environments.

(There are none as wrong as this one, completely human-sent).

Imitation Summer

It has been called a pill,

and reputed to grow to the size of a beach ball

(If not the one in front of me, at least its ilk).

I swaddle in in my scored, scarred, stony hands,

Examine first with touch before I read the words

SOLID CORK & RUBBER CENTER

SYNTHETIC LEATHER COVER.

My nose tells me that it smells like imitation summer,

Faux Americana that fits in the palm of your hand...or...

Or maybe in my pocket.