Ennui (whatever)

there are four corners of this room
(as usual, us usual,
we are here again, both
on a togetherness
since the early days of our
union)

i want to go away, remember the flight
of the little bird, away from its mother's nest?

but i can't, your tears are holding me
like a mother,
and so how can a son get away?

how can a lover go away and be stripped
from its beloved?

the vinyl floors are dusty
the curtains unwashed for weeks
the door creaks like a man complaining
for its usual work

to close and open
to open and close

the door has always been closed in here
there is no exit

but i shall not scream, that is too much for this
harrowing experience

there is no tv, no ref, just the sound of an AM/FM radio
that i bought from a cheap department store

i hold your hands
that is enough for me now.
i stare at the ceiling, and then i get so weary and i close my eyes
asking shelter
in the colored world of dreams.

are you happy now?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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