Ridiculous

 I haven't been able to write any poetry 

because everyone dies 

but not like this! not like this!

and am hemmed in by the thought lives

of lovers who're blithely conversing

in whispered opinions that thud tremendously 

past my brain to my heart, my heart!

My bleeding heart, since when were bleeding hearts disdainful?

out my mouth words of protest at indignities

out his mouth accusing me of parroting

Cracker!? Polly?! Pretti!? So what if I am parrotting

could it be that I am not a beaked thing 

but a mirror held up and saying 

look at this fearful disregard for each other 

breeding in the dark wet stalls of our mutual mind

only ever

the other dinner guest reminded 

me too much of you

I couldn't relax.

caught myself looking 

at their midriff 

when their hands went high

in a joke game

I felt left out of.

me, depressed,

adrift in a city 

and a problem

that we don't share.

trying to see their skin

but glimpsed myself instead 

for the creep

I suppose I am.

imagining it pressed against mine

in an awkward first.

the kind that 

is only ever 

a last.