Action, reaction
Action, reaction:
I wake up.
I close my eyes.
Action, reaction, reaction:
Teenaged boys grunt and holler
in the school yard, preying on
a leather ball with fist-fangs.
I wait them out.
Do they ever study?
Action, reaction:
"Why are you fat?"
one of them yells.
I retreat, inside.
Reaction, action:
The dogs sulk.
They have not had a walk.
(Blame: me, teenaged boys.)
Action, no reaction:
I call B.
She is not there.
Action, action, reaction:
A colleague left his wife ten
years ago.
He remarried, the old tale,
the young wife.
He has been happy since.
Action, action, reaction, reaction:
We divorce.
It goes on.
I cannot imagine happy since.
They tell me I used to know
happy well.
Reaction:
I can tell beauty when I see it.
But beauty is the cat who will
not permit herself to be touched.
Admire, let the tears fall, she is
not yours.
Reaction:
Happiness nestles
in your lap,
is pleased to bleed out
in your arms. You
can have her for as
long as you can,
no hard feelings.
I wake up.
I close my eyes.
Action, reaction, reaction:
Teenaged boys grunt and holler
in the school yard, preying on
a leather ball with fist-fangs.
I wait them out.
Do they ever study?
Action, reaction:
"Why are you fat?"
one of them yells.
I retreat, inside.
Reaction, action:
The dogs sulk.
They have not had a walk.
(Blame: me, teenaged boys.)
Action, no reaction:
I call B.
She is not there.
Action, action, reaction:
A colleague left his wife ten
years ago.
He remarried, the old tale,
the young wife.
He has been happy since.
Action, action, reaction, reaction:
We divorce.
It goes on.
I cannot imagine happy since.
They tell me I used to know
happy well.
Reaction:
I can tell beauty when I see it.
But beauty is the cat who will
not permit herself to be touched.
Admire, let the tears fall, she is
not yours.
Reaction:
Happiness nestles
in your lap,
is pleased to bleed out
in your arms. You
can have her for as
long as you can,
no hard feelings.
posted by Jenn at 1:10 PM
9 Comments:
Lovely poem.
I've been thinking about you a lot lately. Hope you can feel it from across the ether.
I'm pretty sure you still know happy well.
I think you're just sitting at different tables, wondering what one of you said to estrange the other. When, really, all you want is to buy happy a drink, offer a little wave when the waiter brings it to happy, and shyly invite happy back to your table when happy's eyes widen a little upon realising the drink came from you, and you're being deliciously coy about the invitation.
All happy really wants is to get back with you and have a fun, dirty make-out session where mutual apologies are lost in the wave of euphoric reunion. Sort of sucks that one of you has to make the first, bold move, eh?
wait. sorry. jenn, i adore you and i love this piece, but really, have you noticed this simon character?
really?
i'm in love with simon.
the end.
xoxol
I've no ability to translate my feelings into writing - you do, my dear Jenn.
Your writing makes my heart ache. You are in my thoughts a lot and I look every day in my Bloglines to see if you've posted anything.
Hugs and virtual mac n cheese,
Lorrian (who can't get her Google acount to behave and must be anon for now)
I agree about Simon being wonderful.
And again, with the writing! I just eat up your words, be they happy or sad. I'm sure Simon is 100% correct about happy and you.
Love from betwixt Washington Mtn and October Mtn.
ps- my code word is "foons". I just wanted to share that with you because I like the way it sounds. And because it somehow makes me picture large, blow-up spoons, to bop annoying people with.
I agree wholeheartedly about that rascal Simon being wonderful (and very married...did we mention that?).
Blast it, Jenn! Undermined by your inappropriate forthrightness.
Lucky woman that Mrs. Simon...
okay, with regard to simon, i shall put on my dorothy parker hat and say i just don't give a damn about his being married.
he's utterly delightful. and i admire that in a man.
:)
xoxoxol
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