28 March

I DON’T WANT TO BE ALL RIGHT JUST YET
1986, 2000, 2011
for Margaret


I don’t care if I am
behaving like a three-year old spoiled brat,
now and then I need some time when I don’t have to be all right.
Go on: cajole, entreat, beg, threaten. It won’t work.
I’m where I want to be. Exactly. Not all right just yet.
Feel free to say you’re sorry - you owe a few apologies -
but don’t expect immediate results. You could just go away,
I wouldn’t mind. I don’t require a witness to my little snit.
In fact, I’d just as soon you occupy
a different room, a separate floor, a building
in another city. And it’s not about you, either.
It’s not your business, not your fault,
not yours to fix, not rocket science.
I’m not all right, and I don’t wish to be.
I choose to fuss, weep, mutter, stomp my foot,
kick this dumb cardboard box down the basement stairs.
If it goes well, I may not be all right for quite a while.
You’d best be making plans for your own upkeep until
further notice. And file for future reference:
this is what tending to my upkeep
looks like.