mmdxc

My Name Is Not Susan

Good evening from a dreamy
day, an ethereal evening,

and then, tonight, you ran away
with all of the mercy, all of our

photographs, all of the good
and, worst of all, you ran from

that of you who was, well, you.
Who was you. (?)  Who is you?

I mean, what I thought I knew
has to be irrelevant, miniscule,

yet you is something that, to
me, was always clear, or, well,

only occasionally somewhat
murky.  Whatever the case, is

or was, whatever I knew, I know
now that I did not, nope.  The

new know is irrevocably no,
is irrevocably wrong, it just

ain’t right.  It’s paradoxical and
not the least bit paradisical.  It’s

as wrong as a particularly jolly
Santa breaking his ho ho hos

into the vinyl that is spinning
backwards, which would

be counterclockwise, I believe,
in the mode those ‘satanic’ 

messages purportedly could

be discerned if you listened to

certain albums from the 1970s

backwards.  Yes, I believe the 

incorrect way for a vinyl disc

to spin, or the correct way

to spin it incorrectly under the

needle, would be counterclockwise. 

But then again, it seems
to me that I have

pretty much always
been wrong about

what is correct.