Boxed Out

How clumsy climax is,
for too much is still confused,
unanswered, like a lingerering fever.

How much was my desire one to possess?
how much some frustration from Mother's sour paps?
how much merely a glass of years clouding?

We cannot know, can know only
my act is over, the show has been long,
your "beautiful character" must now go back
into a little box to await someone else
who wants a performer.

It's just that I want to shout across our glass
that I am grateful for your few smiles,
angry that you smiled so seldom.

How strange it seems only now to see
what has always been, a good relationship,
but lonely and transient. The other
was a dream I had from which....

Understandably you fidget.

In time you will know the exaggerations
of the heart, but not from this teacher.

My box is ready, and I feel safely unfeeling.
Our detachment may endure.

Louie Crew

If you've any comments on this poem, Louie Crew would be pleased to hear from you.