Moving right along the brain says to the fingers
though the fingers have no idea where they are headed
but as always the blood pumps them up and down
and the white and red blood cells are tyrants
causing oxidation or cancer or whatever the hell they conspire to
create right under your thin skin
and she’s still there
the one that got away.
But what a ridiculous expression
when she never would have come back even if you had
no one gets away.
Do you get that, Narrator?
People don’t escape unless they’re hostages.
People leave or people stay.
Only lucky hostages get away
So don’t let this whole poem be about the one that got away
cause that means you’re a terrorist
and she’s a victim and we’re all better than that
and let’s get back to the writing and stop being so self indulgent.