Mutterings

Woke up with a start. Words greasy on my lips. I was muttering: Kar. Tune. Phooey. Phony.
Is this all you got? The question of this early hour on a day that will be spent working, working, working. Someone sent me a novena. Someone told me that the last line in my poem has to go. Someone hasn't called in a very long time. Too busy. Someone I love is very sick. Went out yesterday, in the bright sun, and bought presents for people I love. It took me a long time. I was weighing everything with will she like this or this? Last night at a birthday dinner, in a backward thank you, my dear friend demeaned my gifts, by questioning why I gave them to her. "What happened? Did you spend all your winnings on me?" My heart deflated to the size of a kidney bean. Came home. Went to bed.

Thinking back on it, I guess I need that novena. I wonder what she really wanted to say to me. She won't call. She never does. Our friendship ended years ago. I just never believed it. Guess I should just accept that this is the way it is. fin.