Things That Happened Since You Left

A lot of my writing deals with the difficulty of authentically communicating with another person. Even as I type these words, they fall short of conveying what I wish to convey, and so the problem is compounded.

On a related note, I believe I would make a terrible interview subject. I can imagine it going something like this:

Interviewer: Your poems are dark and absurd but seem to hint at the gulfs and chasms between people and the challenge of bridging those gulfs and chasms. Can you speak to this?

Me: Uh…not really. I just like words and the process of putting them together.

Interviewer: Oh. 

Me: Yeah.


Things That Happened Since You Left

“What’s been happening?” you asked. So I told you:

A famous man huffed and puffed and shrank himself to the size of a blade of grass. His glasses fell off and he died, blind and alone.

A horse in a nearby town decided bathtubs were smarter it was.

The mayonnaise rebelled and said it would never be a part of a sandwich again.

Various microbes learned French and moved to Canada.

The soil disagreed on whether or not it was nutrient-rich and voted itself out of reality.

A march was held for the veterans of inconsequential wars. No one attended, and the veterans cut themselves with glass flowers.

You blinked.

I suppose it was a lot to take in.

You went away again. I watch for you through the window, but I don’t expect you’ll return.

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