Séance

Darling—It's been too long since I remembered you. I am calling you here in this poem, hoping after these silent years you can still hear me, feel me. I have crawled across numerous and various bed sheets. Feeling afloat, restless.

Darling—I spent years getting rid of the way we were. It always came back under different circumstances. To rekindle my longing for family. To disturb my dream with haunting images. To worsen my weakness for strangers' touch. To motivate yet to destroy.

Darling—I wouldn't be an expatriate because of you. I want to, have to and need to. The door was once opened and I dared to look in, only to find out—like porn—I could do it at wherever with whomever by whatever. Liberated yet surprised. But the loved ones around started to blame me for bringing them misery. For better or worse, I feel sorry for the repentance and misfortune I brought on. But I did the right thing. Now I can chew away my insanity and spit it out at you.

Darling—I am happy. I masturbate once a day and feel fresh. I like to ride in a jam-packed subway car and be grilled with body heat. Sometimes a boner is tripod behind through layers of fabrics. I don’t turn around. I don’t squirm. I embrace the awkward by fantasizing a dance on the tip of an umbrella. Singing in the rain…Shamefully satisfied.

Darling—Are you happy? Are you married? Are you a contented father holding your twins with one arm? Are you hosting a barbecue in your well-trimmed backyard? Are you in your maze staring at your boyishly figured wife hustle and bustle? Are you drunk with the old buddies from our past? Are you looking away when they pry about me? Are you grimacing? Are you casually waving away their mockery and saying “Oh I forget who he is…”

Darling—All these silent years.