Girl, I Hate Spilled Beer Too
But, I like beer in a pint glass, shared with friends I have made
since my divorce, that wedding in my twenties, lasted a dozen years
then dissolved like so many unburdened thoughts.
This life, now, is more full, more rewarding and more interesting and so am I
living for the days my dad reaches out asking me if he can help me with a project, it is his love language
my friends still popping by, though rarely at 2am and usually at a more reasonable early evening,
and over unspilled beers we still talk about the good years ahead of us –
more work-life balance, more time with friends, more explorations outside our comfort zones
more yelling I love you loudly across a space just because you’re my friend
and after talking with those people, those loves of my life,
it is clear some people will understand taxes at 25
and some will live to be 100 and never understand them and that’s what good friends,
or a good accountant are there for
and that self-hatred and certainty of uselessness is something we all feel
sometimes, it goes away, mostly, but through a process that comes from within not from exchanging vows,
and at 48 I can tell you
You matter
and I can finally tell myself that too
When I am alone
My beautiful face
toward the sun.
(A response poem to Megan William’s Upon Turning 25, A Small Nervous Breakdown; inspired by Erica-Lynn Gambino’s response Poem This is Just to Say to William Carlos Williams’ This is Just to Say)
Written as an assignment for the Introductory Poetry course.
A Picture and a Poem 