Waxing Philosophical

 Waxing Philosophical

How about I leave,

and you can have your life back.

The brilliant one
you know—

the one
I seem to have dimmed
without meaning to.

Sooner than expected.

Aha.

Lightbulb moment.

How’s life treating you?

What can I do better?

Would you like to hear from me
more often?

Do you ever wonder
if I disappeared
whether you’d notice?

Not immediately.

Just eventually.

You seem to be doing fine
without me.

Don’t get me wrong.

I like that.

I like knowing
you don’t need me.

That I can leave
and nothing important
will stop moving.

I am important

Just not vital.

There’s a difference.

And somehow
that difference
has become
the whole story.

So say it.

You’re happy to see me.

You just don’t miss me.

I can live with that.

I think.

I am dispensable.

A word I never thought
I’d have to use
for someone I loved.

But while I’m still here
let’s get together.

We can talk about
the good times.

The bad ones.

The things we survived.

The things we didn’t.

We can laugh.

You can tell me
you’re doing well.

I’ll tell you
I’m happy for you.

And neither of us
will mention
how strange it is

to sit across from someone
who once felt like home

and realize

you could leave the room

and they’d still be fine.

So—

how about I leave?

Not dramatically.

Not angrily.

I’ll just go quietly,

the way people do

when they finally understand

they were never
the part you were afraid
to lose.

Fresh Meat

We

and I say this loosely

who start anew

later in life

like in our 50’s

realize the ramifications

of our actions

but we proceed into deep space anyway.

We press on with resolve and courage

because we know

that time

keeps running ahead

and the best that we can do is

try to keep up.

Call me

fearless

and something other than normal.

I just need

to go over the hurdles

a little slower

and every once in awhile

I enjoy

a good swift kick

to get me started

because the doubters

bring big suitcases

build shells

then like to tuck them

into deep niches and hang out

demanding telescopes and mirrors

with plenty of extra batteries

to focus beyond the present

into the blacker than black void

to ping in mathematical sequences

and then to listen

with a bit of trepidation

for some sign of intelligence and wit

so they can  share

the miracle of

a verse

or some meaty prose

with their friends. 

Not forgetting  the remnant

who exist in the outer reaches of space and time

who are voracious  for new material.

who act as if they have not heard a good story

in eons.

The ancient ones

who have endured

for centuries

like birds of prey

on dry carrion

who will continue to exist

long after

our dusty bones

lie frozen

on a cold dead planet

hurtling through space.