Today's prompt is to write a reminiscing poem. My poem is below.
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| He Sees Her in the Trees |
Reminiscing the Missus
a minivan you drove
to your last punk rock concert.
She was your retirement
savings spent on a luxury cruise,
a ridiculously reliable
room and board.
She imagined
having something to hide.
She promised
stories you couldn’t stop
talking about.
She was a secret you gave
away in two days.
She was comfort and wellness
in each of her harsh details.
She said, Being is boring,
but couldn’t break away
from herself.
She answered yes,
no, and maybe
to every single question.
So you remind yourself,
She was a shortcut to disaster.
But sometimes you reminisce
about how if you’d kept her around,
you’d have a different dress code,
you’d go by a name like
Yates or Thorngristle, and life
would be your very own charm
school. Instead, you’re stuck
reviewing summaries of her
every little tat, of her endless tit-
illating symphonies for senses
you didn’t know you had.
***
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