She won’t, you know, talk about it.
She’ll discuss it true enough,
but then funny things happen:
facts get all slippery and slide off
into commentary and time becomes
even more relative than usual;
events give way to opinions
where some words grow too large
for their premise, while others shrink,
growing small and petty, floating
mysteriously in and out of focus,
morphing between excuses and sly,
self-deprecating laughs were nothing
is really very funny at all. And even
though it surely is all about her “me”,
it is never about her at all. Not really.
So, in a way, I suppose, it is.
Thank you for reading The curious thing. I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain, and as always, I look forward to your comments.
The photograph was taken in Newport, Rhode Island at one of the great estates that pepper the place. For more photography, please visit the Book of Bokeh.
Photograph, poem and notes © 2014 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site, unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is: © 2014 by John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The photograph is not licensed for use or reproduction in any way, unless so granted in writing by the copyright owner.