poem

 Jeffrey ParksI ’ve figured out JeffHe ’s got a chip on his shoulder The size of the moonHe loves you like The perfect weighted blanket.He puts himself on ledgesWhere, if he loses balance,Somebody else falls.He loves you like An ancient earthquake A thousand miles awayThat tremors the wine glassHalf sipped on your coffee table, right now.He believes in unzipping himselfTo prove there ’s nothing Inside except for what you put there.He chews quickly Because taste is a luxury.He considers lonelinessThe apogee of human connection.He ’s an idiot, a fool,A mystic in a dark caveSaving all his unlit candles. He loves like a blinded bullRaging through the streets of PamplonaHe never stops. He fears getting caughtDoing nothing, becoming no one.He thinks life is a debtAnd love has to be earned.  It ’s all so obvious nowI ’ve got it all figured outWish it hadn ’t taken so longBut now it ’s timeTo go be someone else3/11/24

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - March 12, 2024 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs