It Is What Made Me Write About You. Poem by RIC BASTASA

reading you with all those particular descriptions, like
a knee jerk, with a sound and motion and smell, like terrariums
with a bee, all these, as i am about to end reading, makes me
desire to write one, at least for you, one whom i have not even met,
but one whom i begin to like.

perhaps i have become unfair to the rest of those who live in the same house with me. Not liking anyone, but just the same, not saying a thing.

life must be like this. To live, and to live smoothly, one must not say anything, or if one says it, it should be in writing only, and not direct, but slanted, not that obvious, but perhaps could be understood and this is where the metaphor of the cold table and the lonely chair comes into the picture.

it is what made me write about you.