Let Me Tell You True
As you must already know, I am quite over you.
I barely think of you more than twenty times a day.
Though I must confess that today,
When I went all about town in what had been
Just an incredibly gorgeous day (89 degrees Fahrenheit,
Dry, even very dry, and absolutely sunny
With a ten mile-per-hour steady breeze)
My thoughts of you had crossed my mind
At more than twice the usual number-rate.
Seems every great weather day reminds me of you.
Otherwise I am fine and my recovery progresses.
OK! I am not going to blame you for it.
I feel that I am congenitally distracted.
On Monday, now that was two days ago,
It rained and rained, the entire day was hot and stuffy.
Still my heart ran to you, I counted,
Ninety-two separate times.
Then later during the selfsame day I stepped into a puddle.
I dropped my umbrella, and soak and wet,
I feared that I might confuse the digits’ tally.
So wasn't it better,
Certainly more rigorously honest,
That I should start my addition all over?
Thus by bedtime, I had the new number, thirty-three,
Which, of course, must be added to that day's first subtotal.
I'm sure that you can compute my arithmetic here.
In my own defense - you no doubt recall -
Low barometric pressure has always had a bad effect on me.
All right, let's get real! If we average out my daily count,
Say over the last 365 days,
One thing is abundantly clear, no mistake about it,
I no longer spend my days just thinking of you.
And let me tell you true, my thoughts turn to you
No more than thirty-six times a day.
STANLEY PACION's Other Poems
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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