I felt a tremor today
in my heart.
I barely took notice,
as I did my daily work.
But I sensed a larger problem deep within,
a tremendous shaking on the other side of my soul,
foretelling a tsunami of sorrow rising.
I wished I could be someone else today,
writing something different;
something funny, and witty,
with a surprising and ironic twist at the end.
Not soft and emotionally raw,
from the heart and uncomfortable to read.
Spillanes are supposed to write crime novels,
not poems about feelings.
The main character is supposed to be tough and cool;
dames with slender legs dangling off the corner of his desk.
Not a man with a girl’s name, writing about his broken heart;
treacly, sentimental and soft.
Life presents us with reality and it isn’t what it is supposed to be.
I don’t get to be the detective with the fedora and raincoat.
Still, maybe I can uncover the missing emotion,
and help someone find a long lost love
hidden within them, by way of example.