JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

maybe i was your friend

once

now i’m a small longing

orbiting you

slowly in white and gray

as you sit on the porch steps

smoking

stub out your cigarette

in a saucer

the wire mesh door bangs

shut on its spring

as you return to your boredom

dishes, floor

the pile of days, chores

performed over

 

you’re thinking of me

i know

i can feel it, c’mon

give me a wink, a lift

of your hand

dammit

i’m bored, up here

all day

hidden behind books

old newspapers

c’mon

let me out of this glass

prison, just once

 

i hate you