It has been so long I know,
and perhaps I stayed away
from embarrassment or shame
or, yes, maybe even the fear of you.
The town I suppose is over-run
with weeds by now, the villagers
too lazy to pluck them in my
absence. Cockroaches have taken
over the ground floor and twitch
and feast on crumbs under my
froggy chair. The letter box
must be stuffed to the brim,
it’s a wonder Pete can find the
space for more Happy Home reviews
and dear-johns from the neighbors
who’ve left for more well pruned plains.
I promise you it was not my intention,
not in the slightest, to leave in the manner
I did. The battery was so low and I thought
We could make it, save be damned. Even now,
with the charge at capacity, I cant return, I won’t.
I know you’re waiting for me, pickaxe raised,
rage intact. I can’t face those incensed whiskers,
not again. So this is where we part,
in an unsaved siege,
in a pixel limbo.
Send my love to Sable,
Tell K.K. to stay cool,
buy Brewster a cup of joe on me.
Goodbye Mr Resetti,
You mental mole.
Jay Rafferty is a redhead, an uncle and an eejit. He is the Social Media Manager for Sage Cigarettes Magazine and a Best of the Net nominee. His poetry has previously featured in several journals including Capsule Stories, Lights on the Horizon, Broken Spine Arts and the Alcala Review. When not losing games of pool he, sometimes, writes stuff. You can follow him on Twitter @Atlas_Snow