Poem 4

Pretend
Valerie Owens

So one Friday night
We shared laughs and chip dip
Over a game of truth or dare
At a party
Where we were both strangers
And you wore that hat
And I said I like it
Don’t pretend that you know me

So we wound up as roommates
Sharing dishes
And gossip
And chatter
So you’ve known me
A season-- no more
Don’t pretend that you know me

So you were a teacher of mine
I sat in the front row
And listened contently
You graded my papers
And answered my queries
So once I was in your class
Don’t pretend that you know me

So we were lovers
Or so we believed
We shared kisses
And dinners
For a little while.
And once you said you loved me.
But.
Don’t pretend that you know me.

Details and moments
This is what you know-- not me.
Details and moments-- not me.

Then what am I, if not these?

Please, my friend
Take a seat.
And please, my friend
Listen
Won’t you try to get to know me?


This poem is still in the rough draft stage. I can't get the flow to come out just right, but nonetheless, here it is. The topic of Poem 4 is not liking something. Pretty broad. So that's that. What sort of things do you not like? Or, what sort of people pretend to know you so well when all they know are details about you? Does that make any sort of sense?

Photograph by Valerie Owens

And the picture has nothing to do with anything, but blogs with pictures tend to be more interesting. I suppose I could make some deep philosophical claim about how we are all stained glass windows and the distortion makes it hard to see the true view. But that would be foolish, so I won't.