Category: Poetry

I once held a sentiment dear to my heart. I named it Pomona and gave it free reign. Pomona was quirky, but stayed in the house with a crippling fear of losing its balance in public and shaking too much while I ate my corned beef. So I let my dear sentiment stay in while I roamed; Pomona was grateful and gave me more trust while lying in bed and burning the toast. When the house burned down, Pomona escaped and called 911, then sat on the curb while I got the good news.

Pomona was gone when I rushed to the spot where my house used to be. I wasn’t surprised. I called my ex-wife and I moved in with her. I swallowed my pride and I waited in vain for my poor lost Pomona to find me again. It didn’t. I got my insurance check and boarded a flight to New Zealand, to hide in my sorrowful, uprooted life and wait for new sentiments to fix my depression. They didn’t.

In the midst of the middle with a stone in my bed, absolutely nothing had fallen my way. I befell a certain curtain chaser with a penchant for sodium pentathol and a mincemeat pie methodology on his way to uncharted technology. I asked him: “Hello, where are you going so fast?” and I met his response, a fist to the gut. It stung for two days as I wallowed and cried, just wondering why a man would cause a stranger such pain. I meditated, prayed and fasted for days, just trying to see where that man’s passion lay. Then I stood by my doorframe, abstaining from nourishment until I knew for sure that this man would come back. Thankfully for my health, he was there in ten minutes, as though he’d known I was waiting for some reason. I asked him again: “Hello, where are you going so fast?” and I met his response, a fist to the very edge of my gut’s personal space, then quickly withdrawn. He had a smile on his face. He said: “You young men have too much curiosity. It could kill you if you don’t understand with whom you should not speak. You’re lucky I’m a conscientious fellow, and I teach you this lesson just to make you less yellow.” He then went on his way, as quick as before, and I yelled after him: “Did you mean to rhyme like that?” He stopped in his tracks and let out an audible laugh before continuing on his predetermined path.