My Banjo and I

My banjo and I trade sultry stares

Across the room, crowded by distractions,

Obligations, and appearances

Begun so long ago,

Things that simply must be done,

But I catch him looking

Hard in my peripheral view,

And as I walk on by,

I feel the burning blaze of his eyes

On the southend of my northbound self.

Sometimes as the day unfolds,

We find ourselves in a space together.

He pummels me with audacious questions

That make me blush inside.

But at least I know I’m still alive,

Knowing that I can still be embarrassed

By the brazenness of his love.

Then he proclaims his unquenchable devotion,

Reminding me of the touching scene

In some modern day love story,

And how we are just like that.

Now he tells me how he’d love

To take me around and show me off

And say, “Hell, yeah, she’s mine.”

And so he’s snagged me—

All of me,

My heart, my imagination,

My focus, my interest, and now my time,

My energy, and attentions.

I grab him at the neck

And begin to play him,

Gently tightening his tuning pegs,

And singing along

With his haunting E minors.

Oh the strings! They bid me pluck them

As I’ve been wanting

All along.

-jenn long