You Were There, and other poems - 9. Tiny cocoons of self-fascination

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Poem No. 24

Why is he the only one –

The single guy in this place

Who will talk to me.

Who will say a thing like:

‘Hey, what’s up?’ and look –

Look at me with eyes that seem

As if they’ve seen me before.

All the people here,

Live in little

Tiny cocoons

Of self-fascination,

And they judge

All-too summarily.

A look, and they

Have thought they’ve taken in

The whole of what they’ve seen

In so narrow the confines

Of their estimation.

But not him, not that guy –

He smiles at me as if

He knows all about

My inmost secrets,

And smiles, and says hello –

Because within his summary

Is both room to know

And to like me.

Poem No. 25

“Here,” she said to me,

a tiny glint of a smile

peeping forth from her

all-so-proper composure.

“Take this and know;

take this, and I assure

you will know what

the words of all these

long-gone bards

strive to bring to life

through the death of paper and

resuscitation of eyes that read.

“Take,” she said, “and love

will finally be more

than a word you’ve

read once or twice.”

A tiny smile glistened

as her composure melted

into a little sigh,

and a little show

of love.

Poem No. 26

If in Poetry there is excuse,

Then suspense of reality

Is its ultimate blessing and benefit.

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