Mother

Something pulls at my sleeve--
 in the middle of the night--
 like a tide-- pulling me to shore--
 I rise out of bed and hug--
my mother's absence--
I place a record on her old victrola--
and watch my face spinning around--
 I am a happy child again--
on a merry go round--
The old needle catches--
a strand of her hair she left there--
dragging it around and around--
pretending to be a wounded bird--
 trying to rebuild a nest.

The Postman

The postman you had befriended
Gathers dry leaves now and
Sings an unfamiliar tune to himself

I’m looking for sustenance in end-rhymes
I’ve bought sleep, a broken moon, wicker chairs
Wondering how long it will be to tranquility

The lake whose shores you used to wander on
Is as dry as a stone which I’ve put in a ring
In the worthless hope that my luck will turn

Colour-coordinated scraps of flattery in the morning
Solitary walks in the afternoon… How will I
Write you letters in my language anymore

The city air is a bilious green, the trees, poisonous
I refer to writing as a bad habit now
Breaking old glass panes with new pebbles

Only an enchanted madman, lazy, gaunt
Gathering dry leaves all day
The postman you had befriended

~ PABLO AND THE POSTMAN
(After watching Il Postino)

Poets

Poets are never yours. They just belong to their muses. And the problem is anybody and anything can become a muse .
Secondly- poets are insecure. they need constant reassurances that they are good. And you just are at loss on how to reassure them because it will never be enough
Third - Normal conversation is almost gone. You feel like you are dating an English grammar text book. Fourth - They only know to receive compliments , they don't know how to give one. And no writing a poem on how good the last night was doesn't count as a compliment.
Yes poets make you a poet too temporarily , but you lose out on your own identity and aspirations. Because I admit a poet can project his life as an inspiring one, but that is his life you are living, not yours and you don't even get acknowledged or appreciated for that. Yes poets make you aware of many things, but most of all your incompetence . Poets are not liable to make you jealous. They actually have to make you jealous otherwise their art fails and that is my personal take.