they don’t wanna

I get snippy responses

to the silly shit I send out

find funny

the dad gags etc

that I use to keep in touch

instead of tedious missives

the strained how are you’s ?

these clog up my ipad

one sends back

take the funny I say

if there is one

then delete

so now she returns a

‘done’

& another don’t wanna

he says think about stuff

anymore

& the mourning begins right there

these people once bright funny

out in the world staking claim

reporting on the absurd everywhere

have begun shrinking themselves

their worlds

too serious

y’know

I said to her

as she was making coffee

I think we’re too serious

me? she asked

no we I said

though to be fair

I should probably own it more

we’re too serious

the word is crazy

you me we

can do all the right things

eat drink exercise right

& Bam!

a bus kills you

or a cancer comes in

to finish you off

& what did you me we do

to deserve any of that?

but she wasn’t listening

the coffee had her mind

& these words

had mine

difficult dreams

sometime in the night

lying there immobilised

with memories

plural you’ll note

of difficult times

where I did not behave well

created my own problems

hurt pissed off

other people

& I can tell my self

clear as I will tell you

if you could have

done better

you would have

done better

but no

I continue to offer myself

guilt recriminations

even though

I know none of those people

any more

or can do anything

about those difficult times

& I drift off

into difficult dreams

poste restante

our free version of:

the Mirambeau truckstop

where Mick the truck driver

would stop over

the good relais

pick up any messages

get a meal have a few beers

& be off early in the am

a few years had gone by

since we’d last met up

his first wife had died

then there’d been the Scot

a couple of others

where nothing worked out

& then puff of smoke

he disappeared

& travelling through mirambeau

I remembered his post restante

left a note for him there

& if ever i pass by again

I ask if there is a note for me

there never is

very probably never will be

but one day

there just may be

where I could take them in

I caught the words

late night

I guess in the space

where I could take them in

& I heard the rhythm

melody

the arrangement

to carry the song on

but there

under the line

I caught the words

understood

the pain expressed

given out so free

covert beneath the rhythm

arrangement

sweet melody

& hidden in plain view

the loss the hurt

the derangement

of a lovers

infidelity

I guess I was in the space

where I could take the words in

understand fully

so long ago

not that this happens often

or much

but

if I mention her name

his face goes awry

like he’s holding on to something

that he thinks I don’t know

& I want to say

let’s just let whatever go

that you might have had

with her

so long ago

I was done with her

she with me

& if you want to spit it out

do so

but let’s not pretend

about something

so long ago

to understand

I did not understand

being little more

than weened

the empty house

furniture carpets gone

all this space cold

no food no mother

something gone wrong

& some time later

I found her in another home

another child another man

& I tried to understand

feel some connection

warmth from her hand

& when I visited again

different people living there

no forwarding address

no letter no note

no ideas as to where

but I did begin

to understand

the great derangement

we have been like this

for over a year now

one topic of conversation

the great derangement

where people turn on each other

call hotlines to report

what they feel to be

transgressions

no touching no holding

no kissing no love

backs turned in the street

to pass

we are the enemy now

to be avoided

shunned if you please

I fear it will be years

until we return to be

when we were free