The Poem

I cleaned my room today. You remember, I am sure, what a momentous event that is. Had some help from a kind knight who arranged my furniture, put up my posters and paintings and made my room look "cool".

Amidst the carnage, I found the book. You said it was a poem for me. I had forgotten about it and almost lost it. I don't want to lose it again.

If I got it wrong, and it was never meant for me, just drop me a line and I will remove it. Meanwhile I hope you don't mind it too much if I place it here for safe-keeping.

You gave me many things. I have the Gucci watch of course, but somehow (if it was meant for me - my memory keeps failing me these days) this is the best present I ever got.


Part I

I was in love with it - the way he chewed the inside of his cheek while he was thinking. "There'll never be another tomorrow like today", he'd say paranoid and firm, rubbing enamel against cellulite.

His week would start noon on Tuesday. Had to be different or else. Truly believed the sun didn't rise till he opened his eyes.

He never understood why shoelaces needed to be tied. Said, "tripping only hurts when you have no patience standing up." Smiling, and his ears would remind me of marks - questions specifically, saying, "Hey, mom, look its me." Never understanding when he made me cry. Palms always sweaty and he'd wipe his hands impatiently against his jeans.

Part II

One day, our man in the crowd says, "You see, I exist."
"However," (in response to himself), "that fact has not aroused in me a sense of obligation." Woke up early one morning. Noticed the stars.
Said, "time hasn't changed". Couldn't believe his interest was done. It was raining then, when he joined me out on our porch.
Said, "I know why you rarely sleep. Why you don't smile so much."