A poem…
The Art of Disappearing
When they say Don’t I know you?
say no.
When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.
If they say We should get together
say why?
It’s not that you don’t love them anymore.
You’re trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.
When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven’t seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don’t start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.
Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.
“The Art of Disappearing” by Naomi Shihab Nye from Words Under the Words: Selected Poems. © The Eighth Mountain Press.
(Thanks to a friend who knows me too well for sending me this poem.)
March 26th, 2007 at 11:45 am
I don’t know you that well, and I see some of you in there.
What is surprising is that I see a lot of me in there. I guess I thought I was unique in exhibiting that kind of behavior.
I have a three year old Christmas card in my desk pile someplace that I still have not opened. And old emails I still have not read.
March 26th, 2007 at 3:19 pm
Ray - isn’t that a great poem? I have old emails and Christmas cards (opened by a friend) but not read - how strange is that.
Maybe we are grumpy old men?
March 26th, 2007 at 7:26 pm
Neat poem…
Is that James Dean? I love his remoteness - he always looks like he’d rather be somewhere else.