The Man in the Three Piece Suit

Telephone rings
But she can’t answer it.
Another day begins
sorting clothes that don’t fit.

The door still sticks
And the hinges still squeak.
There’s cat litter in the hall
But there’s no time to sweep.

Kettle screams
in spits of fury.
Needs to check her eyes,
They still seem blurry.

Because she keeps seeing him
With every turn she takes.
Spends happy hours wearing
a smile she fakes.

Wishes she didn’t feel
the things she did feel
She’s still driving, but he took her heart
along with the wheel.

Crashing into bushes,
or carts full of fruit.
Rescued by a stranger
in a three piece suit.

Magic in his touch.
Sparkle in his eyes.
Charming smile.
She wonders if this is the guy.

Lunchtime hour
comes and goes.
Hates the flu season
and her runny nose.

Friends invite her to
the football game
Even though they know
she thinks the team is lame.

All the time that she’s there
she doesn’t root.
Just keeps on dreaming ‘bout
the guy in the three piece suit.

Late a night she still sits
in front of the computer screen.
Curled up tight in her jammies
with a container of ice cream.

Surfs some sites
just to see what to see.
Tries to distract herself
from other memories.

Starts a chat with a fella
named 212Boot.
He seems clever, just wished
it were the man in the three piece suit.

Slumber enters and
soon she succumbs
Hits the pillow
well after three ones.

Dreams of cites,
green and alive.
Walks to a subway
where people go and arrive.

Hears some music
airy and sweet.
Lulls her down the stairway,
so light on her feet.

No mistaking,
the sound’s from a flute.
And the guy who’s playing
is the man in the three piece suit.

She runs to him
as a train whooshes by.
Wakes with the alarm
and another morning sigh.

Telephone rings
But she can’t answer it.
Another day begins
sorting clothes that don’t seem to fit.