A Weekend Without You
48 hours without a glimpse,
without a fix, without a cheery smile,
a wicked word wrapped in
without you life is so plain,
no ups, downs, no reason
really to watch the rain droplets
form on windows gray with dust.
no one contemplates suicide
after 48 hours, yet, there
is a flicker of unease
so strong a parrot might
pop its kernal.
noting despair belongs somewhere
as an emotional zig-zag in a life
strewn with thistles, I quest for your
happy face so that it must grace
my eyeballs soon or, it's entirely
possible, I'll die of, not grief,
but of lost temptation.