poem

(I started this one last year when I took that poetry seminar, and it kind of just came together today.)

1.

Where what I see comes to rest,

at the edge of the lake,

against what I think I see

and, up on the bank, who I am

maintains an uneasy truce

with who I fear I am,

while in the cabin’s shade the gap between

the words I said

and those I remember saying

is just wide enough to contain

the remains that remain

of what I assumed I knew.

2.

Out in the canoe, the person I thought you were

gingerly trades spots

with the person you are

and what I believe I believe

sits uncomfortably next to

what I believe.

When I promised I will always give you

what I want you to want,

you heard, or desired to hear,

something else. You see

I've porked a lot of women

in my days, and only called you

with a drunken desire

to plunge my face, into

the depths of those big 'ole sloppies.

(ok, that was actually copied from a poem by Troy Jollimore called At Lake Scugog. But it was funny to switch out the last two paragraphs)