What it is

June 2010: In a desperate attempt to stave off senility, the monkey began writing a poem a day. By summer's end he'd begun to run out of versified political rants and philosophical bloviations. Then he hit on the improbable idea of writing micro fiction in the form of Elizabethan sonnets. Eureka. The birth of the "Sonnets From Other Lives" series. Two hundred plus lives later, he's still at it.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

177
Sonnets From Other Lives: Gilbert

Gilbert emerges from the theater
into the soft air of a summer night,
he stops to orient--then he sees her,
standing just across the street. Alright—
he thinks—she hasn’t seen me yet,
hidden as I am amidst this pack
of cinephiles. She lights a cigarette.
She’s smoking now? He is certain back
when they were together she abstained.
She waves. At him? No at another man.
Gilbert watches, trying to ascertain
whether they are lovers. O to understand
this missing thing he calls his phantom limb.
(Its freaky how much that guy looks like him.)
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1 comment:

  1. Patricia K. LichenJune 14, 2011 at 10:38 PM

    That new guy was probably Sullivan. (Yeah, I see what you did there with the name.)

    ReplyDelete

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