You asked me to be/
quiet and leave you alone./
You got your request.
Don’t ask me to come/
back if you don’t know where I’m/
joyfully going.
Fill is a middle-aged wordsmith who wasted his passion for words writing romance poetry to a too-busy, analytical wife and making up non-scensical, Sesame Street-type rhymes to amuse his now-grown children.
When divorce and an empty nest let him consider other options, he makes up a cheap Lucy Van Pelt-like sign, “The Improv Poet is IN!”, stands on street corners, and does poetic, usually iambic commentary on people passing by.
Keep your ‘lectric eye on me, babe./
Let your IMs fill my head.
Press your cyberspace-face close to mine, love…. /
Freak out in a Social Media daydream, oh, yeah!
(apologies to David Bowie / Moonage Daydream).
Inserting soft words/
into your cyberspace eyes/
is foreshadowing.
OR
Inserting romance/
words into cyberspace eyes:/
hot foreshadowing.
It can frighten me/
to see you green lit and yet/
completely silent.