Winter 1978

hello, sweet friend

it’s me, the maniac, alone again…

it’s desperation luring me up your driveway

it’s cold nights staring at the dog

biting fleas that are biting him

it’s winter’s mean temperament

rubbing me the wrong way

it’s people made of endless yards of fashionable yarn

ignoring me as they seek warmth from the wind

it’s twenty phony Santas downtown

each with a hand in my pocket

knowing i’m a sucker with a pocketful of change

it’s having no car

not knowing the bus schedules

not having cab fare

not having courage enough to bike around town

not within walking distance of anyplace i’d like to be

or anyone i’d care to see

it’s a damned shame, being crippled by my own apathy

and now, as i try to run to you,  i fall flat on my crazy ass

because too much time has passed

but i thank you

for not laughing

at the fallen heroine

i only wish you had told me before i left you

that nobody else thought i was a star

i wish you had told me

how lonely life is at the bottom

copyright 1978 rhonda lee richoux (a poem to someone who loved me once)

Published by Rhonda Lee Richoux

I am retired from the public school system. I create magic wands and spells, write mediocre poetry and the occasional freelance magazine article; research local history and family genealogy; I’m an activist and keep in touch with friends, family and archenemies on Facebook, Twitter, What’s App and Word Press. I'm a Fiipina-Cajun troublemaker and trickster. I'm feeling as invincible as Keith Richards these days. Fuck is my favorite word.

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