I was visited by
my loneliness.
It said it was
just passing by
and would only stay
for a quick cup of tea
& a biscuit
Perhaps.
It stayed a year.
Or more.
Took over the place...always in my face.
Never washed up the dishes…never too out the rubbish.
Made a general nuisance of itself.
Snored.
Talked constantly
of you.
Of you &
nothing else.
I had to pretend
to die
to make it go away.
Now, I’m
just alone
the fever of you
gone.
I’ve started talking
to the rest of my life.
We’ve become
good friends
again.
Who knows?
Got a postcard postmarked from inner Outer Mongolia
...it was my loneliness.
Said it was glad
that reports of my demise
had been greatly exaggerated.
Said it... missed me.
Wish I was... here.
I... didn’t.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
For some reason, the comment I put here the first time I read this is gone, so now, here I am again, telling you how much I miss you, being here in Inner OUTER Mongolia...thank goodness for the internet... YOUR LONELINESS-missing you still...