James B. Nicola: Fiasco

marathonlitreview —  February 2, 2014 — Leave a comment

They’d said goodbye forever the night before,
babbling like fools in—
Keep this a simile;
he had affection, but not a lover’s: more
like gelatin just poured but still unset,
the flavored liquid stirred and steaming yet.

He attributed the chance to some sort of
a synchronicity, cosmos-inspired,
next day, as if the gods mocked, or were tired
of their morbidity. For love is love:

Who was to say but them what was to be?
And it worked. They laughed, and with a hug or two,
said good bye again, warmly and happily,
with a “Till next time” and a “Later, you.”

Then on his lingering, final “Gotta go,”
the other chimed in with “Parting is such. . . .”
forgetting those were words to Romeo
from Juliet. Well he made overmuch

of this, the wretch. The sweetness and that sorrow
were nothing of course to the present fiasco:
The quote was from a lover, was it not,
giving him leave to feel? Well, so he thought

and dove right down and loved not like but as
a fool “too fond” (that’s Juliet’s) as he was
too honest; but only because—
only because
he mistook the meaning in a chance event
and misconstrued a citing’s cool intent

not loving first, but, loved, over-requiting,
unable to stop, even when it proved
hopeless. To know thim then, you’d have been moved
and recommended that he take up writing.

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