Featured Poem 12/9/07

To My Untouched Hippopotamus

You never met the man
with whom I spend my life.
I’ve known him many years,
and all I can predict is
sarcasm and genius.

That night, he was himself
through the words of another.
He was the warrior,
standing on top of the hill in the snow.
He was a hero, who fought for our right to party.
He was the junkyard a few blocks from here,
and he was inside of us, shining like oil.
It was the first day of my life.
“This shit ain’t right,” I thought,
and I smiled because I wanted it that way.
He hummed with a dark spectrum,
glowing with shades of triumph, despair, hope.
My eyes closed and I saw the same
music as when I kissed you in the green
glow of a dashboard.
I opened my eyes and realized that
you were somewhere else and I was somewhere here,
and if regret is all you have inside your heart,
then thank God for your mistakes.

—Eric Wigdahl

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