Archive
08/22/08 - (2)
Renascence How many could be way too many Friday nights Spent dining alone? Make no mistake — I'm not begging for sympathy, Wallowing in bathos, for woe-is-me's sake.
Truthfully, I'm extremely relieved To be completely by myself again, This evening of my aging's renascence, Spared the rigors of small talk's silent indignities, To which, long ago, I grew inured, immune.
I'm fairly certain I know what you're wondering: What's with this strange guy, And why all the confessional mumbo-jumbo? Doesn't he have anything better to do? Why doesn't he get a life?
What you can't possibly guess is that I'm happy, Happier than I've been in the last ten years, The happiest, being free again, Restored to the vigor of an unencumbered spirit, No matter that I may be too old to love again,
Rediscover youth's intimacy, Experience the frisson, the spontaneous embrace, The kiss, stolen from an unexpected moment, Just like a magician's inexplicable illusion Or a rainbow upstaging an angry sky. Yet I so hope that's not my reality, not my destiny. Maybe I'll still have time and luck on my side. And if I do, perhaps they'll let me know, once more, That flush of passion's blood-rush, When the heart explores the world waiting to be.
08/22/08 - (2)
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