“One of my greatest weaknesses is getting lost” by Alan Catlin

After a long silence she said,
“You’re lost all right.  So lost even
Stanley couldn’t find you.”
“Stanley the plumber or Stanley the janitor?”
“The explorer, asshole.  You knew what I meant.”

I didn’t reply
There was nothing to say
Besides all we shared these days was silence

After awhile she said,
“You’d like everyone to think you suffer.
That you’re a lost soul.  But you know
what you are?”
She paused for effect, not really
expecting an answer,
“You’re nothing but a fuckup.”
“What would you know about souls?
Lost or otherwise. You have no soul.”
“It’s all a pose.  Your Romantic Poet
pose.  You could get lost in a  closet.”
“Like Patty Hearst.”
“That’s sick.  Really sick.  You’re totally
twisted, seriously demented.  Bent.”

I finished my beer
Went to the fridge
Took out a cold one
Thought, “What the hell?”
Took out two cold ones
Might as well save a few steps
It was going to be a long night
and  I was lost
so lost no one
would ever find me

Alan Catlin
Alan Catlin is the poetry editor of misfitmagazine.net. His latest books of poetry are American Odyssey from Future Cycle and Last Man Standing from Lummox Press
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