Sit Solo on Porch, Tortured
Sit Solo on Porch, Tortured
Here I sit
Is it memory making or past re-take?
The asphalt roadway is not the lake.
And the burning on the burners of my stove
are chemicals from cleaners not BBQ smoke.
I do enjoy sitting alone.
Here I sit
And recall bringing two lovers to my cabin
One snapping photos to impress an old-girlfriend
Darling, don’t think I didn’t know it
You were selling yourself on Facebook to her
for your future marriage.
And the other was no better.
Cleared off the waterfront of refuse and hedges
Built a dock of stones in the path out to the middle
Dug a fire pit that had my mom in heaven
Hung the hammock for you and your Heineken
We were there together: but I felt all alone.
Here I sit
My God what a lot of bullshit!
Those bearded gents five years younger
Lacking maturity, and relationship experience.
I fared better with the of-age or older gents
With a clue, sense of self and greater awareness
terrific sex.
Here I sit
For them, I’ve given up my cabin.
For them, I’ve left my river.
For them, I paid all the mortgage
For them, I moved two apartments
And stored their shit
And let them have parking.
Here I sit
Reflective: I am six years single
Have I ever met someone since as interesting: no.
As loyal, intelligent, kind and caring since all in one go?
It’s a waiting game for an amalgamation
Of the good men that came that may come too late
For us to come like we used to.
To bend, and to tolerate
To be magicians and to try
I get why we said goodbye.
I get why I say goodbye as I’m greeting you hello
Like an Aspie in his social awkwardness
Or an impulsive ADHD kid in his bluntness
The Poet mind
Of my kind
Sees it crystal clear in minutes, can’t bullshit.
Here I sit
I’m quite a loner!
Explains why Montreal action with people and shows
Stimulates me in my mind and soul!
Shall I remain hopeful? Continue to want to share love
to the kind of men who gave it me so hard and long
and who I rebuffed, doubted and troubled.
No wonder …
I sit solo on porch
Tortured.
Sylvie Hill 2017