The Weekend
"What are you doing this weekend? Any exciting plans?"
No. Again.
As usual, I'll be alone, wondering if I can keep myself amused.
I'll be crying inside. Lonely.
I'll be standing in the slowest fast-food restaurant in the city.
Everyone thinking:
"Look at him.. by himself."
Yes I'll be beside myself.
As justice demands .. enjoying my just desserts.
A lone man overboard.
I now plan to go home alone and sleep alone.
Do you really care?
That I expect to die from a deep and personal loneliness.
I suspect death might be a reprive
From living with an overpowering sadness like a river.
And longing to sleep an eternally deep sleep.
I want to cry.
I want to go down to the big river alone.
I hope to cry in the river
I would sink softly and quietly and silently down.
Tears in my eyes.
Quiety.
This will be my final float trip
Gone to the Land of the Tear-Wiping Creatures
To see whether love beyond the Jordan River works as advertised.
"Oh... ummm.. no.. nothing special planned this weekend.
Who knows? Mebbe I'll go fishing."
The Weekend is Copyright David M. Pickens.
Published Valentine's Day, 1999.
