How Are You?

“How are you?”

What do you want to hear?

My honesty will be ignored

as much as my lies.

I cry out to you,

very, very silently,

and I think you hear,

but you are afraid to help,

to listen to what you know is coming,

what you fear.

I am wiser than I let on.

I know that if,

if it gets better,

it will most likely,

no – most definitely get worse.

The thunder compliments my mood,

and the timing is right,

but no one will get hurt.

I will not hint at good-bye.

 

For my mother,

June 24, 1995

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