We can't live without an enemy...

It is a mere coincidence that her face resembles yours,
In the clefts and pitches of pearl skin,
From the distance even,
That of half a parking lot.

It was an illusion that her eyes,
That beamed with assumption and confidence,
Found me steady in my tracks,
And revealed me for who I am.

It was a toss up on what bus to take,
Yet I picked the one where your soft voice sat behind me,
Helping me smile aloofly all of a sudden,
In the ways I will myself to suffer heroically.

I scribble your name with deep black chalk,
On the hallways and in the elevator shaft,
Ill do it all while I’m sleeping,
So I can believe all the waking day in my stalker.

Ill shut tight my eyes,
And the old woman’s Spanish chatter,
Reminds me of your bedroom coo,
In the way it pitches like a sinking tugboat.

I will put on that old movie soundtrack,
That we used to hum to in the car,
But out of respect and fear of ourselves,
Remained silent for her long song about failed lovers.

It’s a matter of chance that your name appears,
More frequently than I might imagine,
In a novel or an article,
As I sob pitifully to myself.

My stage is a congress of torpid memories,
And I play them all like a one man band,
Wiping my egoists tears into the crook of my arm,
And dreaming that I’m waiting for the search party.

It was a conflict of interests,
Yet a well timed event,
That we each uttered ‘I love you’,
In something like unison.

I’m lucky that carrying your picture around,
Grants me so much self importance,
So that at any moment of the work day,
I can feel my gut plunge like a water slide.

I’m fortunate that I can recall every detail of those months,
Because it makes for good bait,
As I look for ways to bring you up in conversation,
The cancerous trophy.

See here? I might be overheard saying,
And it was me pointing back on my life,
And instead of now having a hope or a dream,
Just pointing an excited finger at a blank portrait of you.