...I am a coward
who wades
into the day like water,
and, to him,
I do the same with love.
I am a desperate fool,
scared of the dive.
I am a hunter of the hidden dog.
I check out a book from the library
about teaching poetry, internationally.
Lancaster snickers
and asks how many times
I have called her,
because he knows
that this book means
I am thinking about
ditching plans and running.
Lancaster knows
all about her Kentucky smile,
but he doesn't know
how hard I have tried
this time.
In between coffee fits,
wrenches to faces,
and deciding whether to kill myself
or just lose some weight,
which was the theme to Lancaster's last year,
I haven't felt this way in a long time.
Bad news for you.