Headline Poem 10/9/14 -- I will write you because you ask

I will write you because you ask 

Your story keeps coming, taping

  me on the shoulder

following  

  me in my dreams. 

You knock on the front door, 

and my dogs bark as I try 

to ignore -- 

I peek out the window 

because I'm not prepared 

 for the company. 

I'm not ready, but you are. 

And so like a humble farmer, I dig. 

And like a naked maid, I scurry 

to dress 

before my mistress rises. 

I know once dawn comes,

she will keep me occupied until 

another morning

with cold coffee-filled mugs 

and half eaten chips, 

grapes and scraps of paper 

scattered. 

I wrote before, and although I shared,

I didn't listen as much as I spoke. 

I edited the ugly. 

I feared the confrontational. 

I sheltered.  

I prevented 

connections 

that deserve to be made,

but in all fairness,

they were not yet made. 

This time I will 

watch. 

I will listen. 

I will plot. 

You  have     much to learn, 

and I will oblige, 

but writing about you 

will be the most selfish 

thing I do.