I can’t believe I’m at the age where I can measure things in decades. I’ve been playing the piano for three decades. I’ve known my two dearest friends for two decades. And it’s officially been one decade since I had a boyfriend serious enough that I thought I’d marry.
If you’re not familiar with The Writer’s Almanac, it has a great database for poetry. Tonight, just for giggles, I checked out the poem that was posted on July 24, 2000. It was my birthday, and a month earlier, I initiated The Conversation with the aforementioned boyfriend, in which I told him I was no longer content to wait. He did not want to commit, so we parted ways…amicably, until a week after my birthday, he wanted to “talk.” I started the conversation hopeful; it ended much the way I assume nuclear war does–toxic waste everywhere and no hope of ever seeing the sun shine again.
(Hyperbole is a poetic device, I know, but it was a fairly epic conversation.)
I am so glad I didn’t know about The Writer’s Almanac back then, because the poem for my 27th birthday was this one..
Hilarious. The irony present in my life is ridiculous.
One thought on “Decades”
Excellent poem. Stick with the Brownie Husband. 🙂