The Loathing Tree
Matt Sargent
I loathe this night's sky, lit and
condescending like a dim street lamp
that hunched and would never stoop
and live like the rest of us know.
This man next to me.
I loathe him also, he points out
by name the constellations in
this nights sky; Venus and Mars
in contention to shine brightest,
navigation is easy. And so on.
I would barely name
the months of the year, let alone
in order, let alone constellations.
I loath him standing next
to me. Like being stuck in
line behind a birthday party
of giggling teenie-boppers.
How bout stepping away
from our keg and plotting
a daiquiri course.
Fills comfortable pauses with
lead-ins for another story of his,
in an obvious conversation tree,
a premeditated road map for
getting to know him, what a burden.
This one, to know is to
loathe this one, this one
of so many.
The Loathing Tree© COPYRIGHT 2005 Matt Sargent.
Reproduction prohibited without permission from the author.
06/21/05
