I Will Never Know Because I Am Not Supposed To Poem by Sandra Dodd

I met an artist
readers theater
fun was Pygmalion
I was Eliza Doolittle
he Colonel Pickering
He liked to talk,
I thought with everyone
but soon I noticed
we stood alone in conversation
complimented me a lot
did not believe a word
just being kindly to Eliza
I told myself
Soon theater will be over

We shared stories of our past
strangely similar
He took interest in what I did,
I really liked his art
beautiful drawings of far away
places I would never visit
I took the interest as reciprocal
for noticing his craft
I thought nothing of it
we became friends

Ever increasingly
he showed up where I parked
sometimes where I ate outside
by my office walking by
I saw him peek in the glass
smile from a far

Alerted his interests
was not just as a friend?
My imagination has run away
I have become so vain
I am not the sort of women
men take interest in
something wrong
with my brain
to think it is just that

Sophisticated suave
Talented soft spoken
I see how he could be
an infatuation not just
someone who likes to talk
I'll keep myself in check,
it should be just fine


A pleasant day on the lawn
reading, eating my bag lunch
I received a text
Are you in 'our spot'
you I will come find
I brushed aside the thought
'this was overtly love like'
how strange the choice of words

The artist sat along with me
reading some verses
that spoke of spring wine
he grabbed the book
from my hands
stopped me in my tracks
'Don’t you think we have danced
this dance long enough?
Do you have a passport?
I leave the country soon
you could come with me,
if you do not have one
I could send for you.
It is not just your body
so luscious to look at
but you heart, your sweetness
I crave when your not around.
Say you will be with me
I will make your spirit free
like you never fathomed.
We will visit all the places
that you wish to see.
I will spend my days
nights making you
happy with me'

I think you have
misunderstood
I am a friend of yours
we read poetry, discuss art
I park in your spot
on your days off
We shared a piece of fruit or two
but that is all it is
I cannot do the thing you want
it would be a betrayal
of which I could not recover

I felt the connection
when he spoke
I knew right away
I had to let it go
Life like that would be surreal
leaving real life behind

So surprising was the revelation
that for me a man
would feel romantic
Astounding to my brain
that my ordinary ways had
caught masculine attention

I never saw the Artist again
once in a while I wondered
If I had given in, would I
be traveling in some far off place
learning the art of indigenous people
Surrounded by the beauty
of all my dreams coming true
Love beyond belief
Could I have loved him too
A man who takes interest in you
can be quite appealing