love without knowing
love without knowing
by s.e.e.
In the kitchen with Elvira,
All morning long,
Her puzzles taped to the table.
“You know Jeff is my son.†she says.
“He’s not right in the head.â€
Groggy, half-dead with booze,
Pleading for a smoke,
I examine this woman. Inhale.
Jeff, boner-laden and awake in the room to the right
does not miraculously appear.
“You could really go goth.â€
Murmurs something about religion,
the radio matched to the station in my car.
Exhale. Rambling about Jeff’s ex–
a kind of séance, minus ghosts.
I withdraw, kissing her cheek,
leaving my black robe behind.
The door creaks with my escape.
Detailed yet laocodaisical at same time…touche’! Nice econonomy of words…”Jeff, boner-laden and awake in the room to the right.”–sounds like a roommate i used to have. ..and “Groggy, half-dead with booze, Pleading for a smoke”…sounds like ex-girlfriend.
Thanks, s.e.e. Now i really am gonna go goth. ..except there’s no door to creak cause it’s come off the hinge.
thanks for commenting.
i often describe myself as lacodaisical.
this poor poem, i’m afraid, captures a moment and nothing more.
i’d ask for improvement advice, but i’m pretty sure “you can’t get there from here.”
as for word economy, i find lately that when i write something, i cut it in half and then in quarters and so on.
it often makes less sense, but ends up more interesting that way.
Improvement advice…maybe just make some stanzas
In the kitchen with Elvira,
All morning long,
Her puzzles taped to the table.
“You know Jeff is my son.†she says.
“He’s not right in the head.â€
Groggy, half-dead with booze,
Pleading for a smoke,
I examine this woman. Inhale.
Jeff, boner-laden
and awake in the room to the right
does not miraculously appear.
“You could really go goth.â€
Murmurs something about religion,
the radio matched to the station in my car.
Exhale. Rambling about Jeff’s ex–
a kind of séance, minus ghosts.
I withdraw, kissing her cheek,
leaving my black robe behind.
The door creaks with my escape.