Asking For a Friend

Asking For a Friend

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

I believe that if we try hard enough, we leave something with each person we interact with.

Whether that something is going to be good or bad is the part we oftentimes don't understand until after the fact.

For example, my last boyfriend left me with a half-assed goodbye and an abandonment complex.

I left a book of poetry in his dorm room.

Consequently, it seems to me that, out of the two of us, I did the least amount of harm.

Yesterday, someone asked me if my legs get tired when I run away from my past; I explained to them that I like to see it as me flying towards my future.

Either way, I do occasionally experience shin splints.

Personally, I like seeing the sun set more than watching it rise; even bright, burning stars deserve a little rest.

Have you ever thought about the man in the moon?

Don't you wonder if he objectifies the planets?

Or maybe he knows how to look beyond the mountains that are made of molehills; perhaps he focuses on more than just the tree trunk thighs that pass by as he orbits the Earth.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

More importantly, why is it that every boy enjoys Edgar Allan Poe?

Sometimes I think that it's my many questions that scare people away.

I should just start accepting things for their face value, I know.

It's just that it's my tendency to look for the deeper meanings.

I suppose it's really no loss; you never could answer my questions anyway.

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