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Postmodern Village
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No. I haven't missed you at all.
by Hezekiah Allen Taylor

You are not afloat in my Franken Berry cereal.
You are not hiding under the bed.
You do not squeeze forth from the shampoo bottle.
Nor do you fall haphazard from the tap.

You no longer kiss the Kwan Yin on my door
and ask her to protect me.
You don't bother to point out skin tags
that I should probably have removed.

Not these days.

You don't leave things under my windshield wiper
for me to find on my way to work in the morning,
moist from dew.

You have not set my house on fire recently.

You do not buy me McDonald's French fries
or Sonic cherry Cokes.
We have not shared small but expensive
pints of ice cream with one spoon.
Not in months.

You are not underneath the small rock
I stole from a St. Francis grotto.
You do not pop out from that drawer
in my bathroom that holds the condoms.

Yesterday, you did not ask for more blankets
on the bed or for me to shut the window.

 

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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