The Disclaimer

How typical,
That having set criteria,
Constructed boundaries,
Drawn borders,
Built barricades,
That I should connect
So hopelessly

With you.

I'm not conceited or complicated.
I have my desires
Immersed simply,
Like warm hands
In dishwashing suds.

Look! Here is the bubble that holds breakfast:
A coffee and paper vignette.
Silent and comfortable ...
Although I only drink tea.

Another, where my partner rises before noon
Without missing
Daughters or
Daylight.

Another, Which holds:
A dog and
A park and
A ball.

I already know what it is to be abandoned for atmosphere.
I've lived the flip side:
Silently digging my claws
Into the back of someone
Leaving
As I am settling for night.
Arriving
While I am packing school bags.

Although you presented a convincing disclaimer
About dead-end jobs and
"More money"
You haven't yet discovered that
It is not gold.
Distant friends
Would undoubtedly know you better.
Certainly,
Rewarding you
More kindly than I
For a sloppy pint
With a pocket full of change.

^

Biography

Charlotte O'Brien had her first poem published in a girly teen magazine at the age of ten. She has come a long way since then. Ask her where she's from and she'll tell you: England, Australia, & San Francisco in that order. She enjoys reading books as they were meant to be read: dog eared corners, chewed, cried over, left open with a cracked spine at the edge of the bath, water logged, and sometimes even a little candle wax around the edges. She writes obsessively. Thinks that the printed word on paper smells almost better than her daughter's skin. Still hasn't decided what she wants to be when she grows up but tends to take life as it comes and thinks that probably, things will work out.