Walking into the cold city darkness
in my not-unpleasant,
whiskey warm stumble
toward Claritin-D
and embryonic friendship
with stunning young man
who unknowingly rips me in half
with answers I don’t have
concerning my partner’s state of mind.
The truth is
there’s been almost no time
to enquire
in new scheduled madness…
but the truth has
never felt more like a lame excuse.
On the way back to gay sports bar,
after kindness in complimentary
never-ending hallway
with the book that apparently nobody wants or needs,
we again stumble into unknown territory
on another subject I feel I should better grasp
as it borders on both
experience and uncensored friendships
which have somehow (again)
left me lacking coherence or apparent depth
upon current recollection…
Yet I must question if these memories
are accurate or merely rambled here
for dramatic effect,
for an audience who demands that I write
but refuses to listen.
The real truth,
the more appropriately honest
fortune cookie wisdom
crunches open
beneath Poetry Table instructions
for impromptu musings…
When all I’m thinking about
are new people
weaving in and out of my experience
which dangle here in disarray
to be encompassed later
in organized impressions.
Written by Jason Wright
January 17, 2019
