You Lost Me

Dear 21st Century Poems (or what constitutes one these days),

Listen up, modern poetry. We need to have “the talk.” I don’t mind obscurity. I can think outside the box, and the shipping container in which it is housed. And I will admit that I do enjoy, once in a while that is, to gingerly walk out on a thin tree limb. Sometimes, I even step right up to the edge of insanity.

But eventually there comes a point of no return. This is the moment in time, when a fish has run so much line, that you can not reel it back in. The only way out is really out there, and you go for it. I mean you truly go for it.

Like a little lemming, you lead me off the cliff. Down we tumble, my vision a blur. Zipping past my periphery, concepts fly well over my head. I don’t know what I just saw. But what I do know is that the ground is fast approaching. And, wait, was that a real word? Let me go grab my dictionary, the unabridged one I use as a doorstop to my brain. Furiously leafing through, I try to find my way.

When, SLAM! We come to the end of your poem. I face-plant hard on the page, bugged-eyed with blank stare. Oh Lord, I feel, confused that is, sure as hell. Because you lost me, I don’t know how many lines up.

Sincerely, an old-fashioned poet (caught in today’s less than mediocre time)