6/4/14

Keep it secret or express it (which way will make it last longest?)

A few poem lines of mine from a long time ago suddenly popped out of my head. Lots of stuff from the past has been popping into and out of my head lately; I don't know why. 

I could think of lots of lines from the old poem of mine, but not its title - and I felt compelled to take myself to the point of finding its title. So I spent a long time searching through my computer poem stuff and paper poem stuff with no luck, until I finally realized I could probably just type in a line from the poem and my computer would find it that way and it did.

But in that overly long, oddly obsessive feeling process, I also happened upon other paperwork from the past, in my semi-organized, semi-unorganized paper land. Why did I find a past (special) letter from a past (special) someone in the POETRY section of my computer? I guess it had seemed as important to me as poetry, in the past.

I read part of it and started feeling weird about the ongoing past/present/future, emotional letter after letter after letter from people and times and experiences and mental connections that seemed significant, important, and meaningful for a time, but not anymore. Various people who seemed really meaningful in my past are now people I barely or NEVER talk to anymore. That's the case for everyone, right? At least in semi-romance land.

Which is why I'm pretty sure that nothing involving another individual will be meaningful forever (at least not in person - maybe in unorganized papers, unorganized boxes, unorganized computer files, or bits of unorganized brains that turn it into something different). Even if something seems extremely important in the present, it won't last. It's all going to end in one way or another.

Of course some things last longer than others. Like poems.

It is now after 2:00 P.M. I haven't eaten breakfast (or lunch) or started coffee yet. Finally found the old poem title though - "BOY/GIRL ORDER".


Here are a few lines from that old poem, starting with the three that suddenly popped out of my head.


                        The declawed kitty gets the heavy petting.
                        You don’t want to be a sick cat,
                        spitting your hairballs in public.  Just smile
                        and purr, hide the evidence in your purse.
                        Keep your transformation a secret, a pretty riddle
                        in a little pink pouch.