|July 2005 / Volume Six / Issue Four|
|Cynthia Ruth Lewis|
What's the use?
Words bounce off you like rubber;
I guess old adages ring true.
Our arguments never even start--
merely one-sided gunshots
whose bullets never find their mark.
I envy that.
I wish I didn't know the meaning
of anger and frustration,
feeling the blood churning in my veins,
heart and temples thumping erratically;
an erupting volcano whose course
I cannot change.
And you, oblivious in your easy chair,
You make it look so simple.
If I had a stroke,
you probably wouldn't even notice,
which has made me come to realize
that I could go at any time
due to boredom
and I'd never be missed...
it makes me wonder now,
if your unaffected indifference
is a hindrance
or a gift.
|RETURN to July 2005|