Post a Comment On: Return of the Slacker

I thought maybe
  I’d write a love poem
    for every time I saw you
      from a distance
        and longed to know your name,

A poem for every word
  that stuck in my throat
    when in your presence,

A poem for all the hours
  I spent thinking of
    ways to meet you
      that didn’t involve revealing
        that I already loved you.

But it would add up,
  you know,
    all that paper.

At first
  I’d slowly replace everything I own
    with stacks of love poems,
  but then the apartment would get too full,
  and the door would burst
  open like in the cartoons,
  with papers flying every-which-way
  …and there’s me running around,
  trying to keep things in order,
  keep them contained.

Me, running around making the worst
  hundred thousand poems
    into confetti
      for the impromptu parade
        for you,

And with the rest of the poems,
  building block after city block
    of shrines and monuments
      in your name.



                        - Jim DuBois