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My Turn 2005

started10/16/98, converted to prose 09/26/05

I want to get married. Have I mentioned that before? I know it doesn’t make much sense for me to say it, I could have been married for years now. One person asked for my hand in marriage. I even got a ring out of the proposal. I still have that ring. But I can’t imagine anything ever working out in my life, and I can’t imagine anyone with any value wanting to share their life with me too.
It would be nice to have the ceremony, and the flowers at the aisles, and the bride and the bridesmaids could carry flowers too. And the men would have corsages, too. I wonder if they would have to pit their own flowers on their tuxedos or if someone would have to help them and do it for them.
Maybe I’d have something written or said during the wedding. And I would make sure that the musician wouldn’t play any music I wouldn’t want to hear on my wedding.
I don’t know what the food would be like. I’d have to plan that out when I actually have the hope of getting married, I guess.
I have no idea of what the honeymoon would be like, either. I don’t know what kind of place I’d want to go to for my honeymoon. Someplace I haven’t been. Someplace no one else would plan a vacation to go to.
My father is arguing about an insurance bill with someone over the phone now. This is what I’m reduced to. Listening to conversations that may (or may not) have something to do with me.
I’m wondering when it’s going to be my turn. I’m wondering when the bad news for me if going to stop. I’m wondering if there’s any chance I won’t always be alone. I’m wondering if there’s anyone out there for me. When does it become my turn.




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Chicago poet Janet Kuypers
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