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Las Vegas, Nevada, United States
"No, really!"

My Favorite Bit of Paper Cup Philosophy

The Way I See It #76

The irony of commitment is that it's deeply liberating - in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.

Monday, April 11, 2011

The Architect

What if your friend became an architect,
but failed to tell you that
and you sent no gift, no card, no flowers
for matriculation?
Wouldn't a friend tell a friend?

And what if your friend decided the
ancient edifice that was your relationship
needed renovation – oh, immediately, extensively -
but failed to tell you that?

What if you entered the home place you shared with your friend
and found she had applied skills she possessed
but had failed to tell you that?
What if you asked, “Friend, what is all this?”
And your friend replied, guilelessly, “What? Nothing's different.”

What if, upon your next visit, it could no longer be denied?
She had reassigned weight-bearing walls, reduced the size of
certain rooms and built an escape hatch as would be used in
the Underground Railroad, but failed to tell you that.

“Friend, I can and will live with anything between us,
my only requirement being truth.”
And what if your friend began to build such a
structure of lies that you could feel life, love
and esteem, as you knew them for her, slipping away?
But you failed to tell her that. Wouldn't a friend tell a friend?

What if your friend progressed from lies to silence, used interchangeably,
choosing the subjects about which she would or would not say anything at all?
“Friend, I am losing respect and admiration for you. I have been plain
about what I need. You have nothing to lose by being honest with me.
I will not abandon you.”
“Nothing has changed between us.”
What if you left the building having made a hard decision,
but you failed to tell her that? Wouldn't a friend tell a friend?

What if your friend asked for a favor and explained
she needed you to lie?
She needed your lie to cover a lie she'd told another friend.
In fact, “Heh, heh,” she'd already misused your name and
a false premise to fool a perfectly innocent person for
whom you felt no enmity.
Used your name, or lack thereof, and your artistic property,
your own history, without permission or discussion.
Wouldn't a friend tell a friend?


  1. I'd say a friend needs a poke in the eye.

  2. Very effective metaphor. I started reading it literally at first - as we are supposed to (I like a bit if misdirection) - but got quite caught up in the imagery. Well done.

  3. Wow, this is *good*. Some friend.

  4. I'm reluctant to interpret a poem as anything other than a product of the imagination, but, JUST IN CASE IT ISN'T, I'd add the phrase "copyright by Leslie Morgan" somewhere on this blog.

  5. @ Matt ~ Poke in the eye with a sharp stick, eh, Matt?

  6. @ the Badger ~ It makes me sad that I wrote something that would disturb anyone. That was not my intention. But if that is what you thought, I am glad you said so. Really.

  7. @ Jim Murdoch ~ I thank you for saying so, Jim! I also like misdirection and may even be misguided. ;~} It pleases me you liked my attempt at poetry. I will be honest. I was so nervous about posting it, I finally just put it up there as I was leaving for the airport. Pretty difficult to snatch it back down as one is traveling.

  8. @ CramCake ~ I woke up in my motel this morning to find you and Jim Murdoch had commented favorably. Thank you! I found it very difficult to put it up, but I'm glad I did. One has to stretch sometimes.

  9. @ Kirk ~ GOOD approach to interpreting a poem, Kirk! I like that. And isn't copyright an odd thing for a woman to forget after she's just written about having her artistic property mishandled? Thank you for watching out for me.

  10. @ the Badger ~ Motel room: the place where one goes after the airliner drops her off in the evening, but before she goes to the meeting the next morning.

  11. Shari would wait until i was out at sea and then paint things in the house, disturbingly similar. I like passive agressive behavior, it can be so surprising.

  12. @ Tag ~ Let's see: what time and which day is it now? Right this moment, I love all human behavior. Oh, it may not be pleasing, but it is mostly so ever-loving interesting.

  13. Matt's comment made me chuckle - I'm evil like that - offended eyes are apt to poke themselves out...we'll see - or not, ho hum...

    I'm very glad you posted it - you're good.

  14. @ Rachel ~ I'm surely glad to "see you" here. You're a "sight for sore eyes", so to speak. Matt IS a funny guy. Thank you for your support, Rachel. I'm just trying to learn my way, both to write and to be sturdy enough to post and take in the critique.