Passive Aggression

February, 2008

When I see him
a palpable aggression stirs in my blood
a tensing of the limbs
a quick twitch of the neck -
and the mouth.
My mouth.

And when he plods towards me,
animated, eager,
I speak shortly.
With callous words and austere lips.
I look left.
And right.
And scarcely in his eye;
my skin crawls
when we meet holy scopes.
Meeting eyes, a human connection which -
while severely under-meditated on -
is,
subconsciously,
sought-after and quite essential.
Sadly, though, is, now, at this tediously familiar time,
all but begrudged.

The tangible disfunction in
brutally concise conversations,
unbeknownst to him,
is one to be observed in the present,
and henceforth, avoided.
But, he seems to keep meandering towards me.
Towards the mouth of a woman
who wants neither to be articulate, nor amiably attentive,
at random for randoms.
I am, no doubt, bemused by my passive neglect,
nay,
antagonism! towards another creature who craves contact.

But changing is not easy.