A poem for Wednesday

Blogging is a funny thing. I feel so much affection coming at me through your comments and e-mails. And then I turn around and I'm alone. And it's hard to explain the joy blogging brings to my non-blogger friends. It sounds like I have lots of imaginary friends. And if I mention the name of a blogger-friend in conversation, I sometimes feel like I'm taking liberties, talking about a person who I don't really know.

But I suppose it suits me, because I really am quite a loner by nature. And blogging allows me to know and feel close to more people than I'd ever be capable of in the real world. Still, occasionally, I wonder if it's all a chimaera. If I'm really more alone than I take myself for being. If blogging is like the old parlor trick...

You know the parlor trick
Wrap your arms around your own body
and from the back it looks like
someone is embracing you,
her hands grasping your shirt,
her fingernails teasing your neck.

From the front it is another story.
You never looked so alone,
your crossed elbows and screwy grin.
You could be waiting for a tailor
to fit you for a straitjacket,
one that would hold you really tight.

by Billy Collins, from The Apple that Astonished Paris
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