I keep thinking I’ll see you accidentally
as though things aren’t already planned out.
I try to outsmart destiny, whittle it down
to a child playing with a spinner wheel.

I sit at cafes and imagine
each man is you coming to meet me.
I scowl at such an ego.

I have come to meet whoever
orders my plans,
my personal assistant who
knows my schedule better than I do.
I want to wrap my hands around
her fresh stalk of a neck.
I want my power back. I want eyes to glance
at me and linger. I want to cry
and be able to stop.

I keep thinking I’ll see you
as though you know where to go
in order to get to me.
It’s like needing to pick the right bus line.
Every line is a different color and goes somewhere
while one comes to me.
Pull the string, baby, it’s time to get off.

04/04/2006

Posted on 04/04/2006
Copyright © 2024 Lisa Marie Brodsky