Why Bother

Somewhere, someone wonders

what ever happened to me.

The first line of the message arrives:

Long time … It sits unopened —

Why start this excavation?

Let me live as if I am new here.

I claim my indifference as non-attachment

but still google am I a sociopath

at least once a week.

I will leave the chat,

hike to the far end of the beach

yet secretly (secret from who?)

wait for someone to arrive out of nowhere

and see me in all my glory.

When kids do this

psychologists call it a healing fantasy.

I’m grown now,

aware that there’s no hero.

However, someone showing up

with a strong hand and a plan

is not out of the question.

I started using Bumble.

By that I mean I swipe right

and let the matches expire;

watch as handsome faces turn to little

grey circles of we’ll never know

what it feels like to be someone else.­

This is the impasse.

When a double rainbow appears

after weeks of grim weather,

text messages chime

Are you seeing this?

Yes I respond.

Yes! I laugh into the split misty light—

despite the pebble in my throat

that I can’t spit out

and I can’t swallow.