Okay. I haven't posted a poem in a while. I wrote this one a few weeks ago -- triggered by a totally unnecessary medical exam. I had the exam -- just like I did many years ago -- to placate my doctors' sometimes more than necessary thoroughness. And, of course, just as I knew all along, all was well. Unfortunately, the exam dredged up old, sad memories.
Out of Control
My mind takes me
to far away places.
I have no control over it.
I’m right here
at home, it’s 2009,
and I can’t stop
thinking about the last time,
way back in September, 1999,
I saw my homeopathic MD.
He came up in a conversation yesterday,
and before I know it I’m having lunch
with Yael (she was Jenna then)
at the Farm in Beverly Hills.
We are sharing a brownie
and I’m telling her how worried
about Paul I am.
She assures me he’ll be all right,
and the next day
she is at my front door,
carrying her dress
for his funeral in her bag,
hugging me as if she could
squeeze the pain out of me.
And now, I’m in the shower,
the hot water
runs down over me.
I’m crying, covering my eyes
with my hands,
as if to blind myself from these
visions, shaking,
remembering.
I miss them both.
Paul because he is dead
and Yael because
she is out of my life
for reasons of her own.
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