I'm Tired

American Poetry Review, The, Jan/Feb 1997 by Lima, Frank

I want you to grow old with me

i.e. to catch up to me as I am becoming increasingly weary of writing poems to you

the poems have discolored my life

I'm tired of the mysterious truth after I touch you I'm tired of not knowing what you think about I'm tired of women who have the same name as you they don't know that I'm tired of them too

I'm tired of the telephone of its beige lips telling me they love me and that you don't that you're a figment in my ear

I don't want my poems to wear out anyone else again I don't want to die and have this machine at my bedside holding my hand draping me with its affectionate black ribbon wondering who will turn it on when I'm gone wondering if my soul will become a kiss again.