Solitude, by Chris Agy, July 2002

Solitude,

I longed for you,

for your brief encounters.

I basked in your scent

of salt-spray, of forest floors,

Of books, pages

lined with words to transport

me to places of intrigue,

casbahs and caverns and citadels.

I rolled your taste over my tongue

slowly, silently savoring

your sweetness,

satisfying

my thirst for

minutes

unhinged.

Then,

You came with a vengeance.

You moved into my house;

demanded my attention.

Married me.

I pushed you away,

filling, squares of a calendar,

box, after box of

events and people and places

that don’t move you out

of the corners.

There you are

lurking and laughing,

taunting

What now, What next?

Whenever I close the pages,

tiptoeing into the darkness,

you come.

Alone.

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