It’s not hard to care for someone.
I do it for my cat, son, wife, friends.
I hope when I become ill, as will happen,
Someone will care for me.
I wish I was understood.
I wish someone could read my mind, but that’s the problem, because the idea
Of someone unsure of my intentions—
And mine of theirs—
Leads to intrigue
A damn cornucopia of possibilities.
All too often people hear
What they want;
not what’s being said—
Which leads to
I don’t know.
Maybe I should learn another language.