What if I told you that despite
all the pining in these pages,
all the ache and wishing,
she was never the one, not ever,
despite my many arguments
with myself to the contrary?
Would it surprise you to learn
about resignation and regret,
vast like my mountain’s shadow
or an angel’s reach, about how
my great motivator is today?
You know how some people live
to remember what was, to reside
in memory, joyful or bitter?
Yeah, I don’t live like that.
Not at all. So I write about
love and fucking and flying
(and they’re the same, right?)
and the hard work of marriage,
life lived in the present tense,
how it’s worth traversing every
tunnel to reach light’s blessing.
Well, duh, we knew that. You wear
your heart on your blog, sister.
I guess you're not surprised, then.
Kerry asked the Real Toads to write a poem that "breaks the fourth wall," i.e., breaks the fictionality of our writing by directly addressing the reader. Hope this suffices, though upon reflection, I think I often address the reader directly in my writing. So, hmmmmmm. Oh, and this is also poem #14 of 30 Poems in November to benefit Center for New Americans. Yippee!
