An Argument

writen in March '01

We argued over Thomas becket, my friend and I, my dearest friend,

who is parting slowly from me every hour.

I gave a hollow proof and she asked me,

"Do you believe that,

truly?"

I lack the sharp view, the delineation

to believe things truly,

and I believe very little truly.

I heard her patronize me and I thought,

How things have changed.

Two years have reversed our roles.

Two years ago I was the one with stances and convictions.

I used to look at her in pity,

and I held her head away from the cold locker door

when kids were cruel.

Four weeks and a sour strip of entrails transposed us

And now I cannot hold

her, and there is no need to hold her.

I am easily appeased with ink on paper,

which does not disagree with me as she does,

and I qualify my every statement

for fear of controversy.

Indexed and cross- indexed with twisting strands of words,

Empty speach is the nucleic acid of my presence,

broken by a cutting syllable and

double- helixed, this being the building- block of my life.

Nothing tensile there, nothing 'truly'.

We argued over Thomas Becket and I think I lost, but worse

I gained another shade of gray,

the curse whose subtle venom grows

more ingrained every day.