In the Meantime

By | 1 February 2016

In the meantime, by which I mean the time
that is mean which is all time, really – either
you want it to stop and keep you suspended
in an endless state of ecstasy, or
you want it to hurry up
and get you past the kind of suffering
that’s made worse by thinking – a vicious cycle
in which you become convinced
that your god-like genius can solve any issue
as if life were a Rubik’s Cube or a game of Lemmings –
I’ve heard it said the most important lessons
are those you need to learn and relearn and relearn
perpetually which is why I keep falling
for assholes I guess and although John Lennon
insists that war is over if you want it
I enjoy fighting more than I’m prepared to admit –
like that time when you called me fat
and I called you a hypocritical old pig
and your face broke open into sudden bliss:
A girlfriend, a real girlfriend I can fight with!
as I stood with my suitcase half-packed
dinner half-cooked in your kitchen
rage like smoke from a saucepan boiled dry
not knowing whether to punch or kiss you
which is to say I miss you; our time together
like burning magnesium – gone in a white flash.

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