Izzy Is Not Perfect, Nor Near-Perfect; She Is, In Fact, Far From It, Yet … Poem by Dennis Ryan

Monday morning, May 22, 2023 at 12: 24 p.m.; Tuesday afternoon, May 30, 2023 at 12: 05 p.m.; Thursday morning, June 1, 2023 at 7: 58 a.m.; Friday morning June 2, 2023 at 10: 32 a.m.; Thursday morning, June 8, 2023 at 8: 18 a.m. and 8: 30 a.m.

—this poem is for Isobel 'Izzy' Nash, Vassar College graduate

'Seems like only yesterday I left my mind behind, down
in the gypsy cafe with a friend of a friend of mine …'
—Bob Dylan, 'Love Is Just A Four-Letter Word'

When self-reflecting, I quickly realize that Izzy
is not perfect—nor near-perfect—far from it,
and at times like this, I need pause, reflect,
for my emotions, my feelings get in my way,
take total control of me when I think about her.
This is my confession, a reconsideration, a self-
examination of sorts, of emotions I sometimes
can neither control nor contain as I have admitted
to her, face to face, when we last spoke … Last?
Izzy has her ways, ways about her that dissemble,
and she is not honest in her dealings with me—no,
she's not, and I need confront the facts, come to terms
with them when and if I come to terms with her. But then—
the encounter of last Friday night… which brought all of
this—this poem included—to the forefront once again.
I ponder, have pondered it; ponder it again this moment,
yet have no answer(s) —'the wind bloweth where it listeth' without answer; the river flows where it flows of its own
purpose, and my feelings for Izzy remain the same though
I have no difficulty living without her, which wasn't the case forty-some years ago with Stephanie DeRienzo—no, that
was another matter entirely—my life experience, other loves,
my friendship with Karen, my marriage, the years married carrying me through, making all the difference this time
around. Around? 'Bring me a higher love? ' Higher?
Higher still? Izzy? Really? Love, do not let me down,
delude me any more than you have already—if nothing
else, I will keep her in mind. In mind—yes, will—perhaps
the intensity is dealt with better this way, minus the ties,
lies, false bindings and betrayals that are sure to follow
if I should—well—reader, read my mind, read me a hundred,
a hundred-thousand times if you can, will. I am an open
book to a point, as I told a new friend this past Tuesday.