I Still Think About You Sometimes - Jeanette Barszewski

poem read by Timothy Arliss OBrien

I Still Think About You Sometimes
Jeanette Barszewski

Like when I’m behind this angry woman in line at CVS. 

She taps her gel-tipped talons on the counter,

about to erupt because her expired coupon was declined.

You were a fever, familiar as a lover from a past life, a dive into tropical waters

until I had to come up for air. My head broke the surface far from shore,
and I wondered how long it would take me to drown.

First love at thirty is sad, but you wanted me, and I was lonely 

so we constructed a sapphic castle complete with dragons 

even though we were wrong together as snow boots on a dog. 

I was always apologizing, a Catholic girl’s never-ending quest for absolution. 

You were always exploding, my inability to fight, to scream, and release

waxing incandescent with your need to shriek at waiters and smash dishes.

I hid under the bed until your hurricanes subsided and still think 

my method preferable, but being a turtle during life’s storms is

just as sick. It made me victim and victor in the same skin.

Now, I can accept I’m a buck only seeking other bodies when I’m in heat. 

Solitude becomes me like a witch living in a hut at edge of the village 

concocting love potions for a fee, but preferring the company of my cat. 

It’s fine, the rest of humanity is around, but they get nowhere near my heart.

Yes, I’m aloof, probably autistic, but I’m mostly okay with it

and hope you found the right medication to tame your unholy rages.

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Jeanette Barszewski is a fabulous poet from NJ. You can find out more about her at
www.jeanettebarszewskiauthor.com