By Request, An Insignificant Ballad

       He thought nothing of it
       and on that they agreed
       since she couldn't let on 
       they didn't, there being 
       no poet left in either of them 
       to deny the lie they let speak 
       for their attempt on love.

       Except she never once had him
       past the base of that one part,
       that one piece of him without
       its accessories, like one book
       overdue after she'd borrowed it
       from a vast library she had no
       occasion or interest to browse
       but went ahead and filled in
       as best she knew how would fit.

       And he was never that into her
       any farther than that one part
       of him was said by her would fit,
       that and no farther was allowed
       like one more place he'd've gone
       had he reached the border by dark
       but got turned back until a later
       time that was not in him for a
       place that was not any of hers.

       But there had been that part
       of him that'd reached that far
       through her, so they let it try
       to call them enough to be
       loved, some collision not entirely
       as accidental as it appears it was.
       And if she was never to have had
       more than that one part of him
       and if he was not to come through
       any more into her, at least they did
       for that single random instant meet,
       dance, exchange. Act like loving.

       So he stood at his edge of that
       infinitely high wall he'd made
       and hurled his seed wildly out
       into a black storm she was said
       to've been in, while she angled
       down another strange street said
       to've been one of his aimlessly
       turning a corner toward a light
       dimming to the morning weather
       and tried not to think too hard
       about what the rain tasted like.

       Then he figured it was enough to
       go on to make the jump, as she
       let on it was maybe enough for her
       to stick around another night for,
       and they lay close enough for sleep
       to come against the dark, the void.

       And he never did hit the ground.
       And she never did take a breath.

       But they both needed their excuses,
       his for stopping and hers to move on.
       And since there had been so little
       between them, hardly enough to waste
       good word on, I have been asked
       to say for them, how they meant nothing
       by it, neither bad nor good, only as
       much and as far as things can reach
       and still leave untouched, unloved.


4 Responses to “By Request, An Insignificant Ballad”

  1. 1 1markt
    2010.12.20 at 7:44 pm

    Pretty solid grasp of emotion or rather non-emotion that many affairs start off as. There are a great many that turn the corner of nothing into someting bigger than the one parts of themselves. This piece sums of the sadness of wasting time for nothing while sacrificing one of the better parts of self for that same nothing. In fact this work is very gripping in that it is not steeped in the masquerade of actually believing these two or doing anything other than what they are doing. Strong work that leaves one sad. I’d like to invite you by 1markt.wordpress.com sometime.

  2. 2010.12.20 at 10:39 pm

    This one was just brilliant in its structure and delivery…the story you capture of the affair is as perfect as one can get….kudos!

  3. 2011.08.16 at 5:52 pm

    Sigh! Such a sad commentary on unfulfilment. Hope both of them find love, eventually.

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