You sent a picture today.
You were reminded of me
and you wanted to share the moment.
I listened
to the long stretches
of time
between the reminders
Communication
Button
I haven’t wanted to ask this.
I’ve been afraid asking would be the end of our relationship.
But I’ve already wasted so much time and energy trying to figure out if
I imagined our connection—if
I’m imagining the disconnection.
Reality is hard to grasp through mania and depression,
Every crumb of attention starts the cycle over.
The truth is, our relationship ended a long time ago.
I just hadn’t figured it out until recently.
What exists now is two people who used to know each other,
Being friendly from time to time.
So what is there to be afraid of?
I’ve spent a lot of time replaying our conversations,
Trying to understand when things changed.
I am profoundly wounded that you couldn’t say, “Something’s happened. I need space.”
A friend would have said, “This isn’t working.
You need to work on this.”
So I need to know if we're friends.
What happened?
Why did things change?
Lennie
We met because the woman who owned you
Had to let you go.
I sat on the grass with you and held you
And as you realized you were being left with strangers you struggled against me.
I brought you home and you glued yourself to the window,
Heartbroken.
I comforted you, and gave you a box to improve your vantage point,
But you had no way of understanding what had happened or why.
Yesterday I left for work
And you came to the window to watch me leave.
When I came home a few hours later you whined and pawed at me and jumped
In my lap.
Maybe you thought I wouldn’t return?
You danced for cookies and I gave them to you.
I sometimes think about your memory of the woman who called you Remington.
I remember her crying as she left you with me.
You seem happy here, and I consider
How a dog goes through life without words
And must find contentment in the world as she finds it.
Language is a hell of a thing.
I would like to be able to tell you that I love you,
So I throw your ball, and give you another cookie, and worry how you’re feeling
Whenever I’m not home.
Sophistry and Solipsism in the New Millennium 