Honesty

There's too much on my mind to write a poem.

I don't want to write about college or the future or debt or decisions or deadlines,

I don't want to think about money or a summer job or unattainable friends or turning 18

Or any of the other thousand fingers of thought in the entrance hall to my brain, but I'd rather

Mull on any of those than think about you.

I don't want to dwell on facebook photos of you that wallpaper the back of my mind,

I don't want to tell my friends about your journeys or stories or life

Or mentally steep myself in your words and gentle reminders -

I won't be waiting for the next time your sparse quotes appear on my screen

And no, I wouldn't wish to say your name into the phone any more

Than the once I've said it this week.

I don't want to read my to-do lists or emails or award announcements, or even my blog,

But I especially don't want to read a letter from you

I especially don't want your name to greet me out of the mailbox at tomorrow's check,

And I don't hope you included lists and wrote stories and made promises.

I hate it when you make promises.

It's true, that I don't want to talk about poetry or companionship or my kayak,

Or about silence, or denial, or regrets,

But mostly I don't want to talk about you.
And god, I hope I don't get the chance.

XXX--