What If It Was Electric? (a repost)

Chimera Poetry

busy street linda apple

I caught his eye as I walked past him on the street
and I wondered what if
what if I said hi?
what if it was electric?
we stammered and talked over each other and laughed and laughed….
and our friends shook their heads and said oh you two…
and we learned to cook Thai together
and went on a skiing weekend
and hated it and sat in the bar all achy and sore and laughed and laughed…..
and got married
and had one baby
two babies
and built a house
and painted it, wallpapered it, painted it again
and grew old
still laughing……
still electric
I wondered what if
but
I just kept walking.

*artwork by linda apple*

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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