Blue

I handed my self respect to a

man who had monumental

knowledge of tax, law and

politics, yet was devoid of

empathy, always begging the

question: but why?

Truly there was no reason as to

why midnight engendered a

blue flame in my mind, at least no

reason I could tell, and“I don’t know”

put us both in a

pensive frustration.

In some ways I searched for

him to say that the sadness was

like a burning candle, to

let it live in the dark and, eventually,

it would die on its own. But

instead he said that if my

sadness was dearth of cause, he

couldn’t help. And so I

stayed in that familiar stasis,

blue and brooding, and

searched for a

probable cause.

By morning I had no reason,

no revelation, just a

fragmented poem that was

slightly slouching,

unfinished.