
SENTIMENTAL PAST She has a sentimental past of old friends, of an ideal love of friends she misses dearly, of shared laughter that leaves an ache that no one new can now ease, no one else can ever fill, you can never take their place: nor should; they remain, but are far away… but when her face looks sick, or dead and she thinks of him instead of a passion still-smouldering if only for a full instant like a toppling revelation of a colossal mistake the realisation of being on the wrong highway that is to say: with you -- She has a sentimental life of homesickness and heartbrokenness I know because the tears start to flow WHAT IS THE WAY? A compliment is the way to your heart but your heart perversely seeks its pleasure and, latching onto him, would rather smart than be its boring admirer’s treasure. Intimacy, pure and undemanding, falls into your lap and graces your day -- how have you merited understanding and now with indifference throw it away? “How” is the question one wishes one knew. Meanwhile, apathy makes all hopes shatter. When you said “You don’t know me” was the clue and the rest, all the rest doesn’t matter. For now you’re left with him and I with me as sun rays glance opaquely off the sea.
David Francis has produced seven music albums, Always/Far: a chapbook of lyrics and drawings, and Poems from Argentina (Kelsay Books). He has written and directed the films, Village Folksinger
(2013) and Memory Journey (2018). He lives in New York City.
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