Oh, hey Fil. I lost the thread somewhere in the mental chaos. No worries in any case.
Oh ****, poetry. I got practically zip.
Here's the closest thing I got to that. Prose poetry I guess. Inspired by my third ex wife.
I Hate You
I love you as we float effortlessly above this road, your hair gleaming in the lights of oncoming cars, your eyes shining with anticipation of the evening ahead, your body hidden by your gown from mere light but not from my eyes. I am glad for the comfort this modern carriage gives you and me, its unseen parts protecting you from the heat and damp just outside its windows, its body protecting you from harm, its engine working smoothly to take you wherever you would go.
But then I hate you. I hate you for believing it is your due, for disparaging the sweating men who labored with the asphalt beneath us, and the ones who rose daily to make this comfortable cocoon around you, the ones who cut the wood and built the house you left minutes ago, the African who dug the metal and jewels you so casually adorn yourself with. I hate you for the men who labored to extract the oil and coal and uranium that makes your life possible, the very ones you blame for despoiling the planet. For the plumbers who fitted the pipes that bring you the clean water you drink or flush away without a thought. I hate you for every scientist, waitress, engineer, mechanic, farmer and laborer who worked tirelessly to make your life the carefree existence you so lightly enjoy. I hate you too for the men who labor over your body, wanting only to add to your pleasure while you wonder why it gives you none. And I hate you for the labor of love we pour on your souls, and have it taken for grief.