Do you ever think about it?
The way I seem so much smaller to the world
when you are not in front of me.

All those years, I taught myself how to avoid that ill-fitting fate
of following bitter bile in lifestyle.  
It was only challenged twice, spawned by someone who never knew, probably knew,
obviously orchestrated my choices to resolve
today, in this chair, with these words: soggy satisfaction.

He has clearly melted into a thunderstorm and forgotten his manners;
a good host makes sure his guests are constantly cared-for and never,
God forbid,
uncomfortable or cheerless: I am neither,
he thinks
I am neither delighted nor disgusted
with how our lives have unfolded into paths
so separate that he will forget my name before he dies.

I thought he hung the moon, but he just took credit for your work.
Glass bottles, fishermen, Indians and the man who needs no introduction have homes, here,
red-walled and wrinkled, but at least dry and safe.  
Where I have placed them, there is no pain.
It is reserved for the quiet girl enjoying the rain.