I know nothing but the quiet
In the night
Having gone to the unit
Where a woman lives.
Outside a man was smoking a cigarette.
When I called after having texted,
Someone hung up and turned off the lights.
I heard the dog’s chain,
Then I drove away.

When I awoke
The sun was shining
And a message was sent.
She had “miscalled” me and then went to sleep.
But it wasn’t her argument that persuaded me.
It was the fact that when I picked up the phone
She was talking to a woman
Reading my message and getting angry that I assumed
The man was her’s,
When all she did was go to bed early.

Still, the drama in all of this
Is what makes it so tedious.
I am not in love,
Or if I should be
I don’t feel it.

But, who am I after all these years?
I am not in the running for what I want.
I am an old man living the flirtations of the past.

When I wake up tomorrow
I will be too old to consider dating as an option.
We laugh about the old having such ambitions.
There comes a time when two people
No longer look credible holding each other.

I know nothing…



  1. The silly thing is, and here I go, don’t mind me–merely a voice:
    it speaks and it says this, and being able to say, and here it comes:
    there seems to be, and don’t mind me, a voice inside this head
    that says to you, or rather looks at you–and from far away it comes–
    many years it has traveled forward to meet you in your car as you
    drive away–

    and it says that you are outdated, that passions of youth are for the youth
    and that living, in itself, in it’s being, in it’s essence–and here I go, please,
    don’t mind me–is youthful. And so the man chooses to die thinking that
    he is no longer alive, that he is no longer entitled to that feeling that
    overwhelms the body and the mind and the only thing that will let it
    escape before that man explodes is a jump, a laugh, maybe–
    maybe he’ll drive a little bit longer and listen to music and wonder happily
    about the night.

  2. Lovely, insightful, delightful rendering pure the facts of the gaseous blather, but it is also the stagnation of not loving, wanting to back away, wanting to wait, where opportunity is like cheating on what might come. I am alone because relationships become opportunities to study, but also distractions from studying and carrying out, where they take so much time and attention. As you get older, you have less tolerance for what seems a deal breaker(s), so you end up turning a blind eye and the other person becomes resentful. It is easier to sit and stare. You delight in the good times of relationships that were really not that good because in the end, there was always this uncertainty, uncertainty in knowing what you wanted to do. That permeates the ability to love. It draws a black curtain over the stage. What am I going to say? What am I going to sing? What pictures? What music? What am I supposed to be doing? Death is a curling of the leaves. The moisture leaves. The leaf falls. It becomes as light as air and takes flight. Yes, I must get into a car and drive, find music and wonder happily about the night, which is always so fearful to him.

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