The Poet's Mother's Lovers.

The Poet’s Mother’s Lovers

As if words are not enough, I am now

Considered an emerging poet.

I found this out yesterday while I was waiting

On the train that would take me to Nowhere,

A hop, skip, and a jump away from New Jersey.

I missed my mother, but she was long gone-

She traveled all the time, from Japan, to China,

To Guam, taking pictures on her new iphone

As she went, gathering souvenirs.  She was recently

Widowed, recently married again by an older man

In his fifties with hippie-length long hair and a cool

smile.  “Boy,” I said.  “You sure got back

On the love train fast!” the last time I talked to her on

The phone, and she agreed with me and giggled a little,

Saying she thought she finally found her true love.

I wasn’t about to argue, but I wasn’t about to agree,

Either.  I flash-backed to the memories of my true loves;

The boy who didn’t talk to me in high school; the guy

With a ring in his nose; the one who read books at

The local café.  I had all sorts of lovers, but the books

I read were the best, taking me to far off places that

One could only dream of.  And I did, and then I wrote

My own words on my own piece of paper, and I started

A journal, and now I don’t know where I will end up.

It will be a great adventure.