monday

why did you move your seat?

i sat just out of eyesight

but in an instant

you broke through my defenses 

i felt the knot grow in my gut

when i saw you there

sitting there, silently

in your dress clothes 

 

two years older, like me

i find it hard to accept 

you're a force of nature

you don't just grow older

why did you get up? 

did you turn your head

to look at me?

why did you look?

my stomach turned over

the engine of an old honda

sputtering and stalling

in the great canadian winter

 

braved your line of sight

retrieving my parasol and bag

and emptied my stomach

on the walk to the metro 

 

why did i go there?

i'd say "exposure therapy"

just to give the term

a new meaning for me

 

you know, now, don't you,

that you've never touched

this brand new skin of mine

itchy, shedding, washed clean

 

i take comfort in the idea

that you've moved on

i'm doing the same thing.

working on forgiving you.