Poetry Marathon poem #3

Tell them what they need to hear
Lie to them
Tell them you’re not drunk
so you can drive away from them
and go where you’re wanted.
Heh. Want is a word I use sparingly.
Disappointment waited for you, boy,
you stood her up.
Bad plan,
but now it’s hers to deal with
for her days of quiet
reading in her apartment
made of years and old woods
already cut
for use
and we cannot fight function.
Shrill noises snap me back.
Items hold memories
and from memories
we gather magic
and usefulness
beyond use of word.
But understanding runs.
Hope is fleet,
I should know,
my feet hurt from running
and I hold you
close though I don’t know
why.

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