The Option


I’m his option,

The one he opts from,

But never opts to;


He’ll exhaust

Of the blithering crowds,

At the movies,

The deafening sounds,

Of the games,

The insipid flow,

Of the television;


Then maybe,

He’ll remember me –

A heavy hardbound book,

Once opened,

Skimmed through,

But never read through-

Wipe away the dust,

Straddling over me,

Then maybe,

He’ll smile;


To see

Something familiar,

To keep him company,

On a drizzly evening;

Maybe he’ll reopen me,

Maybe he’ll devour me,


And for once maybe,

I’d have made him smile.



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