Getting Over It Already
It’s been six months or so—gone— and still
I feel impoverished.
Frank again? my poet friends murmur.
Time to move on to another subject.
But my life feels less, is less. Memories, Frank,
our memories. Mostly, nobody knows me like you do.
Do? Did.
He had children, lovers, wives.
They have their own part of him.
They lose, too.
But I’m thinking of only myself. I can’t
make the same jokes with anyone else.
Won’t fly. Listen, here that
dud? It’s me landing flat.
I’m the drunk at the end of the bar
whining to the bartender,
Nobody understands me.
Nobody does anymore.
My life is a big tree and a branch
has fallen off. The one
we sat on together.
It won’t grow back again.
3 thoughts on "Getting Over It Already"
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Wonderful, Joe! Great to have you posting again this year.
That photo of you is both hilarious and adorable.
I like how you start a conversation with Frank and the self so effortlessly. I like the relaxed conversation. A tree and a branch! A fitting elegy.
Love the opening and how it creates an intimate reading, especially, “Frank again? my poet friends murmur.
Time to move on to another subject.
But my life feels less, is less. Memories, Frank,
our memories. Mostly, nobody knows me like you do.
Do? Did.”