She backed out of the room,
Into the driveway and out to the car
Like my cat doing a Moon Walk imitation
of Michael Jackson
when it didn't want to be petted.
I should have just sat with her
and breathed
And said nothing.
Her inner clock was wound by some
Fated,
cruel
Screwing
...that left her partnerless.
How was I supposed to know
she was so fragile
When she seemed so strong?
She remarked, that
although
My scales were shiny,
She would rather swim alone
...in a dark rigid ocean
Where she could feed in silence
Tiny sharp tearing bites of criticism
Which seemed to nourish her soul.
(Copyright 2001 by Darius Gottlieb - No reproduction without express permission from the author)
