Weekends

I spent the weekend

Doing just what I wanted

Sitting alone at home

Talking to no one

And thinking

 

I played some new songs

On my beat-up stereo

And sung along

With all the passion

I ever had

 

I read some out of a pulp novel

I bought at an airport

And wrote a little

A poem or two

But nothing too good

 

I picked up the old guitar

From next to my bed

With the broken string

And played three notes

Then put it back down

 

I turned my stereo back on

And played a tape

That had been given to me

By a good friend

Who moved away last year

 

I remembered how we

Spent our weekends together

With me on the guitar

And her singing softly

Her voice choking on emotion

 

I spent the weekend

Doing just what I hated

Sitting alone right here

Talking to nobody

And crying

With all that I held

Within

’til the pain went away