Transparency —Terence Winch
We embarrass our friends with our secret knowledge of them.
They avoid us. Never call, speak in languages we don’t know.
It is one going-away party after another. Farewell lunch.
Disappearances into the south, where days don’t count.
You checked out long ago. Only your thoughts are naked now.
You used to be the narrator, now you sit and listen in the dark.
You are the windshield wiper to my umbrella.
You are the polar bear to my wedding cake.
You must serve your sentence and your dependent clauses.
It is already eight thirty and words burn in the fire.
I will never stop dreaming about sex with you.
from Hanging Loose