The Poet’s Dilemma
I wish to write small, to cast a nearsighted eye
at the small disturbances of man, the quick glance,
the suppressed sigh, the pang of jealousy when
he sees her with another on the streets of Avenue U.
I wish to paint with a thinner brush,
to catch the smile, the wistful look,
the hope in a young man's eyes
when he goes on a first date or interview.
I wish to type out the song in a minor key,
to capture the moan of a missed opportunity,
the sadness of a lover leaving 'round the corner.
Forgive me that I can't write larger,
that I feel more at home with a smaller font.
Pardon me, too, that the sweeping saga
lies outside my grasp or vision.
I am more intrigued by what is said in parting
between ex-girlfriend and boyfriend
over coffee in a late night diner in Queens,
than philosophical inquiries into the nature of love.
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