Not Tonight
Day Twenty-one of Thirty Days of Writing

I came here to see you wonderful oh
Who am I kidding, I can’t even write
Your name anymore, anyways, it’s all
Been said, here and gone, there’s nothing
I’d like to say — just to sit with you
Is enough for me, like an elderly couple
Out to dinner, their special place
Can you imagine forty years with some
One and still the audacity to speak
As if she hadn’t heard that one before
I can be cruel, I am well aware
But by this time they are at the table
The same table for a thousand times
A single candle flickering before their
Heavy eyes laced with time
Soup growing cold, hands
Swollen with cramps and scars
Entwined in one another’s
Both staring out the window
Without the slightest quiver of lips
Both staring out into the night
And the night returns their stares.
One day I will find the right words
