“You’re not the same Carl I married.”
I sit there longing to meet this guy
who was apparently a decent guy.
Where did he go?
I don’t miss the drunk.
When the drunk vacated,
I suddenly had an open road.
I cannot go back to that hell.
Where is the good part?
Who is this asshole, this gentleman
who has left town?
I want to be good for everyone,
but Carl is gone into a cyclone.
Her question deserving a robust no:
“Am I supposed to put up with this
for the rest of my life?”
Her question deserving a dopey look:
“When will you get better?”
I feel stupid about this.
stillfugue 
#1 by Marian on February 8, 2011 - 9:31 pm
i want to be good for everyone? it’s a myth, baby.
i want to be good for everyone, too. it is impossible.
#2 by Carl on February 8, 2011 - 10:23 pm
It is part of my daily ruin.
It should be, “I don’t care what you think about me, I love you.”
#3 by y on February 8, 2011 - 10:02 pm
i especially like the innocence of the first stanza and the line, “I suddenly had an open road.” thank you!
#4 by Carl on February 8, 2011 - 10:25 pm
Ah, yes! Opportunities abound! Thank you for visiting and for commenting.
#5 by Evelyn on February 9, 2011 - 8:27 pm
This poem is fucking devestating.
Its so real, I cant believe who raw you laid yourself out for us.
This is just amazing. Maybe the best thing I have read of yours…
so far
#6 by Carl on February 9, 2011 - 10:08 pm
Wow! You are generous. It felt clumsy but there are many reasons for that.