The deaf ones leave a note in
the house you don’t still wait
for him in, unable to call.
“For old times sake,” he
writes. Or was it a blow job?
Others send postcards from
Miami, they’ve said the same
thing 16 years. Suddenly they
stop. Your present boyfriend’s
daughter was 7 when the post
cards came. Now she’s wanting
a baby. Most, you never hear
from again. It’s a jolt to read
their obituary, especially if you
left them. Almost a relief with
the ones you cared for too much.
No old boyfriends have called
me for dinner or brunch. Once
I could count them, the lovers,
at least waiting hours in an
airport with nothing to do.
They are probably on a list in
a poetry notebook in some
archives. I remember my cats,
from 6 years old more clearly.
Of course there weren’t as
many. Old boyfriends come
back in dreams and when I
wake up I’m not sorry. One
writes poems about a woman
in clothes like mine who looks
like me. Hardly any have asked
for money or good wishes on
a marriage. The ones, never quite
lovers, haunt the most like a
book you couldn’t put down
but never finished, left behind in
some abandoned railroad station
you won’t get back to again
OLD BOYFRIENDS by Lyn Lifshin
March 12, 2010 by Scot
Love , love this poem!
wow. sending postcards after 16 years. if I can help it, I don’t even nod recognition if I see an ex walking in my direction.
Really like this one. This line screamed out “The ones, never quite lovers, haunt the most like a book you couldn’t put down but never finished”
God, Lyn is so good.
I just posted an interview with her at Miriam’s Well (http://miriamswell.wordpress.com)