Suitable conclusion
By Michael Joseph Winslow

—she should know who for

I was typing on my laptop computer, hunched over it, right leg draped over the right edge of my bed (covered in a royal purple comforter) and left leg scrunched under my left buttock, when this thought
occurred to me -->

What if I just made up my mind? Randi says to me “there’s nothing to remember when you tell the truth.” —no secrets to sort through
before retorting whichever accusation you attack me with. Did I mention I’m so,
so sorry.

I saw a soirÈe of pedestrians on the street-corner out my window. They met, and then were led away by a woman wearing decorative angel wings that fluttered as she pressed through the breeze. I sensed she was determined. I thought of when we
were so,
so seriously in love.

This poem actually started with me thinking
about the expression “breathe life into” as I jogged.
My heaving chest; the heat amidst my burning lungs;
the gulps

—all I wished for was your scent in my nostrils
(& maybe your movie-star glamorous face in my sight).
I might have lied
once or twice but I’d like to mention again
how so, so
sorry I am.

You: “Why are you doing this to me?”
Your friend Heather: “You suck at life.”

Hi, I’m Mike.