Like Tick Birds On The Backs Of Wildebeasts Crossing The Serenghetti {for H.B.} Poem by Shane Markie

You talk melodically and methodically to your
friends. I still wonder if I remain
one of them. You used to gaze
intently into my eyes, wanting to scrutinize
my words carefully. Now you needn't bother.

I occupied 'a big place in your
heart, ' you said. Was it the space
between your mind and genitals or was
it a place where one ought place
oneself within a walled garden of anticipatory

despair?
Still today, you talk melodically and methodically
to your friends. I still wonder with
despairity if I am one of them.
You had rejected my holiday wishes for

Christmas and the New Year. Was it
because you'd joked publicly about facing hunger
when you were little, and was it
because both your mouth and legs ran
ahead of me always faster than mine?