In Case We Never Meet

A brand new poem. For book three? Why not dream?

In Case We Never Meet

You ought to know

I was kind to children and small animals

and never awoke one day

without underlying sadness.

That I overtipped waitresses,

at breakfast especially,

hated small talk and early mornings

and had the most annoying compulsion

to read the last page of a book

first.

Loved a great many people,

but not all at once

or together at parties.

That I miss

smoking, every single day,

even 25 years on.

And my lovely father,

always.

You ought to know

I am scared of the dark

yet fiercely drawn to it.

And at my happiest in the ocean

or on it,

That I once valued intelligence in people

over just about everything.

But you should also know

I got smarter

and that changed:

Now it’s kindness.