I do wonder what was the choice
when I had no choice
only the voice that richochets

and in the voice the echo that says
take the sick you need me
and I
who could not feed the need in me
would not listen
to this one who was forgotten,

I remember then
and
I guess you do
who I was
but
I'm still me
in
a different century.

I think we’re just
bodies sometimes

a how-to
on becoming the ocean

or Saturday

something to swallow

It’ll make a list of me
easy

I call it something else
let it run across me like
calling it back

acts like a thorn
& turns me back to flowers

We may not
Be able
To heal
Each others wounds
But we can
Compare
Share
And
Admire
Each
Other's
Scars

we could be rambling along a country lane  or better still we could be sitting up by the old mill among the buttercups and lilacs and having a picnic of peanut butter sandwiches and freshly pressed lemonade and then lying back and watching the movie show of clouds that pass,

we could be
if you were with me
but you're not
because you married that little snot, Timothy Gregson
and I am on my lonesome

so it'll be lunch for one at the chippie
again.