I review your website
with changes once in a while;
I follow your LinkedIn account,
short of clicking on “connect”.
I watched the YouTube videos of
the Chamber of Commerce luncheon,
and the early spring township parade.
I download the PDF file with you in it,
standing right next to somebody, smiling,
or wearing a straw hat in the local primary school
with kids all around you.
Who am I?
Not a gawker, not a pervert, not a stalker, not a voyeur.
Just plain old me.
You are the star in my life’s implausible “if”:
If I were a singer, you swell my songs.
If I were to write, you stretch my phrase
to meanings beyond my explanation.
If I were Dorothy Parker,
you would be the one who inspired “Telephone”.
It’s You Again
Published
