It didn't have to go the way it did.
I could have turned away, like a coin rolling of a table's edge.
I could have deleted all that happy-faced smarmy shit from my inbox
instead of answering.
I could have been a real bitch and told you to just suck it.
I didn't, but I should have.
You could have had the grace to get hit by one of those blood-colored buses
in the hectic streets of London.
Your heart could have come bubbling, black,
through your dry lips like a drain backing up.
Wipe your chin, you Manx troll.
You could have left the big island
(may it sink. may the lions on the Thames dip and drink)
and gone back to yours.
(may it sink, too. and may there never be another.)
Airlines could have conveniently gone out of business.
My passport could have been denied.
I could have simply decided to stay home and watch the snow fall.
I went though, like a country fool.
I went, and it was like swallowing a live viper, meeting you.
I crawled home by my fingernails,
and couldn't eat for a month.
My spirit lay still inside me on a dark border I never wish to see again,
but, in time, it wobbled to its feet.
Now it is strong again,
but gets snappy if it is touched.
Love me if you want to, girls, but stay the fuck across the room while you're doing it.
It didn't have to go the way it went,
but I answered your letters, and got on that plane,
and it did.
for Fireblossom Friday "calamities"