He Didn’t Understand

He was wrong, he should
have listened to the band
and tried to move the way
you moved; he didn’t let the
music in, denied the sound
had anything he understood,
implied it wasn’t good enough
to waste the time it took to
half decide.

You stood away from him – a
distance slightly out of reach,
decreed he could be mockery
to none but him. That hurt as much
to say you didn’t care; infused with
spirits from the air, good vibrations
in you where, content with what you
felt as such profundity from he would
not frustrate your point of view.

How right you were. The isolate
alone within a joyous crowd soon
learns that fate has ways to trip one’s
feet; completeness of your move
away still haunts him now, the space
you put between has taught him brutally.
There is a gulf of strident emptiness
without you there. He was wrong about
the band, He was wrong to carp
and try to claim your ear.

He didn’t understand.
© I.D. Carswell 2007