For The Muse Who I Do Not Know Poem by r james sterzinger

A ladies blue and white panties
A small size four
Now how do I know that?
On the end of a branch. Hanging,
On the edge of the ravine,
Near the pond.

Lying among the leaves
I uncovered other evidence more
Evidence. Beer cans and rubbers
It's a beautiful view here
Very romantic!

Ah, Romance is a dead
Art. You can love someone
Twenty-three years and
Never get an I love you or
A hug from them.

What other lies do I
Suffer myself to believe in?

A young lady's blue and white
Panties hang in the woods
Like a suicide victim.
They match the blue and white
Of the sky. Isn't that
Romantic. Think about it!

I double check the area
Looking for a body. It is
My morbid nature. It is
How I feel about love.

A little further along
A woman's sweater
Blue-green with holes
Size, two or three. I again
survey the landscape, stare into
The dark dirty waters of the pond.
It may be best if
She drowned. It's how I feel about
The ambiguities of love.

Two people and a mutt walk by me
The man tall, thin with dark hair. The
Woman fat, blonde, round. They don't
Know that I am watching. Like you do
When I come home from the night shift.

Ducks mate for life. A lonely drake
Mallard, sails alone. Something familiar in it
To me. The ambiguities of love.

We argued this morning again.
Gutted each other with direct
Slashing movements. Here
In the park happy couples and families
Walk by.They don't see me
In the trees. I feel like a murder
A stalker, something even more
Sinister as I write this.
I feel somehow that I am the guilty one
The one who was with the girl
In the blue and white panties
A dirty old man, A user
I wasn't, but I feel that cheap.

Sometimes poetry can spoil a walk.
Sometimes you trip over a muse.
A muse who you will never know
Who left her panties behind.
Either way, the art of it all
Leaves you feeling dirty and
Cheap.
.