You, Reader


You, Reader

Billy Collins

I wonder how you are going to feel
when you find out
that I wrote this instead of you,


that it was I who got up early
to sit in the kitchen
and mention with a pen


the rain-soaked windows,
the ivy wall paper,
and the goldfish circling in its bowl.


Go ahead and turn aside,
bite your lip and tear out the page,
but, listen–it was just a matter of time


before one of us happened
to notice the unlit candles
and the clock humming on the wall.


Plus, nothing happened that morning–
a song on the radio,
a car whistling along the road outside–


and I was only thinking
about the shakers of salt and pepper
that were standing side by side on a place mat.


I wondered if they had become friends
after all these years
or if they were still strangers to one another


like you and I
who manage to be known and unknown
to each other at the same time–


me at this table with a bowl of pears,
you leaning in a doorway somewhere
near some blue hydrangeas, reading this.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s