If I don’t care about that
will I care about you?
Yes I think I will eliminate every distraction,
that’s what I need to do,
the weather, the little things which touch my heart,
routines and hobbies which connect me,
even my poetry and my coffee,
the cigarette at six in the morning
when I need to be in a trance, or think.
I remember you. You attempt to hide
in my unseeing face above the bathroom sink.
My favorite songs, my long walks. I got rid of you.
But that’s not really what I wanted to do.
The trip to the dentist was the trip I made
because I forgot about you.
I thought I could forget about you
with chocolate and varieties of sweet lemonade.
At the end of a freezing day, when I stayed inside
I fell asleep in complete triumph,
a recluse a little less interested in you.
If I don’t care, if I don’t care,
will I care about you?
It’s you versus these things.
You looked on the internet and saw I was dead.
(Correction: you were dead)
Now only this poem sings.