On the phone tonight
I successfully carried on multiple conversations
One was orally facilitated
the others convened in the playground of my brain
Successful until I crossed the telephone lines with
“You can bring the fruits and vegetables.”
I suddenly knew it was the wrong dialogue
Secret stories leaking out from their prison
Touching the normal one, not infectious or airborne
Simply shaming the closet freak for his particular addition
I’ve got an AV circulating them ’round the clock
Who’s responsible for that? Certainly one “normal”.
So roll me in with averge minds, the kinds that sleep at night
With my AV pumping me with these thisling thoughts
And I’m supposed to answer correctly to, “Whatcha doin’?”
Small talk. Think small.
Crowd out the grander imaginings with
formal courtesies: “Nothing much.”
The reality that surrounds them surrounds me —
It conflicts with this AV, “You see?”
Emily Dickson had it right
The brain is wider than the sky
High above these telephone lines
Do I still need to apologize for misspeaking?
started in 2010, finished tonight
This is the second to last poem I’ll be posting in support of National Poetry Month. It’s an unfinished poem I found, one of many I plan to revive from my more mature, wrinkled perspective. It’s been quite the journey sharing these pieces with my readers. Let’s see what the final post brings tomorrow!
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