January Poems #31: Would

I don't think anyone has ever asked me, "Of all of the poems you've ever written, which one is your favorite?" If anyone had put the question to me, though, this would be the one I'd choose. I think it's the mixture of sadness and longing tempered by optimism--hope, even--that explains my affection for it. It makes me smile. And anything that makes me smile, even after all these years, can't be too bad.

Wherein an angel
who would never

have known me in
my Pretty Boy Days
and would be content

to throb for me
now would never

have existed since
I never had any
Pretty Boy Days

I don't doubt that
there is someone

--not necessarily
an angel--who'd like
to have someone

--not necessarily
me--as a hobby.