By Vincent Renstrom

The decision seemed that much bolder
for the well of silence it sprang from
that late winter day, as I stood at the sink
and stared across the driveway,
the furnace having just shut off,
the incessant ticks of a clock the only sound,
away in another room, and then,
the veritable spurt of water
from that kitchen spout and I knew,
in those few spritzing seconds,
I knew what to do about you.

Three years later I have no regrets.
And when you question my methods
it, well, it kinda makes me look bad
and hurts my feelings a little.

Life is what life is, you know.
The dripping of the tap told me that.

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Copyright Renstrom 2012