tiny poem not at all related to any ex-boyfriend (or pretend amalgamations of ex-boyfriends)

I wrote this one on Veteran's day...on the metro home from work. I don't know if it's actually self-contained or if I an too busy to finish it. Maybe it needs a last line? I really can't tell so I'm just going to throw it up here for a while.

Nov. 11

The Metro home on Veteran's day
is governmentless. A quiet anarchy
of empty seats and half-personless cars--
silent and nameless without your one-sided
conversations and the plastic clank
of badges against coat buttons.

© meredith c. jones

Pictures

There are no pictures of me and him
smiling and laughing at parties.
We go and come home again after,
undocumented. If someone were to
ask where we went or what happened
we could say nothing at all and keep
the secret to ourselves.

I’ve found so many pictures
of you and me: me with my tongue
stuck out, you mid-chuckle. Both holding
brightly colored drinks and gazing at the other.
Maybe it was the pictures that did us in.
Observation forced order into chaos
because you can’t live up to the face you’re
making.

What could you have said to prompt my tongue?
What could have possibly been that funny?


© meredith c. jones

This is how I know I'd make a malevolent diety...

It was over the night
you fell asleep on my couch
with your shoes still on
and I didn’t think to take
them off and set them
by the door for you
or bring in a blanket
from the other room, turn
off the TV and leave you
alone to sleep.
All I could think was what
might happen when you
woke up to find that I’d
tied your shoe laces together
and gone out to get coffee
and another magazine.