I don't know what to say, but some
small part of me wants to say it
anyway. I'm not supposed to
ever care about you again,
if you don't care about me, but
some central part of that equation
goes on caring. I don't know
what it is you deserve, but I
do think you probably deserve
a compassionate piece of my
mind that would never classify
you as unlovable in a
million trillion years. You are not
just another statistical
number in a field book, but the
world remains a mysterious
mathematical problem to
some. It drives them crazy with desire.
The philosophers follow
their obsessed example, going
in droves over the cliffs trying
to catch the Big Question in its
birthday suit. They wind up in tiny rooms,
drooling blindly at the
confounding sunset. I can't save
you, but if we're both lucky, I
could remind you to save yourself
once in a blue moon. Just for fun.
As a kind of wave from the backseat
of a speeding car. Or star.
Have it your way. In a poem.
There. Satisfied? I don't know what
to say because the words won't come
when I call them, but they still like
to snuggle up next to me on
the couch when I'm feeling lonely.