by: Laurel A. Porter
Your apathy toward me is shocking
The person I have come to know
is now completely unrecognizable
I guess the script you wrote for yourself
and never fail to follow judiciously
doesn’t have a chapter on Bi-Polar craziness.
Did you thumb furiously
through a few chapters
only to discover nothing but blank pages.
(That’s not like you
-gotta be ready for anything
-calculate every minute detail ahead of time.)
Ah, and yet there it is . . .
-yet another way I’ve disappointed you
So, put up all your walls again,
like we knew you would
(And, just to clarify so there’s no mistake
I knew I would never be allowed in.)
And the crowbar I brought with me
bent in half and snapped
Your son’s in your enclosure;
and, of course, some money.
I would imagine that’s about it.
Impossible to be like I am
and understand someone like you
Devoid of any substance
And all those pesky human traits
Maybe you could try to muster up
Some kindness or compassion
-just for show
It just isn’t there
-exactly how you wanted it
You are quite the screenwriter after all
Go ahead and slap some money down
On Horse No. 6
And slip the kid a few bucks
I almost admire you
To be as cold as stone
And, always your own best company
I’d be mournful and lost
In all that empty
But I guess it suits you well.