The Sensational Excuse

What, were you
sensational and I
missed it? Apologies
from my bottom core — I was
elsewhere, captive
to smoke and some
shackling dream of
complicated motives.
I was enslaved and
I don’t use that term
lightly –it’s too heavy
a word for that.  I didn’t
like my master and
hated my chains.  I
lay there wishing I was
with you, really,
it’s not an excuse but
truly all the forces
that held me were stronger than
my desire to be there.
And you were of course
sensational! Of course
it would be the night
I was laden with blue
stone, held down to the earth 
by its very bedrock, unable
to rise for you or me or anyone,
it’s purest coincidence that
I’m up and about now, a freak
emancipation raised me up 
and I know it’s no excuse but
that freedom came too late
to let me get to you, and
there you were being sensational,
as I was being crushed, as I am
crushed now, figuratively
but still I’m crushed, it’s no excuse
but crushed really is the word
to define the blue granite basalt marble
nature of what kept me from you,
you being the sensational you you are
or so I hear, it’s not an excuse
I know, it’s not an excuse, it’s
really not about you,
you were I’m told and I’m sure
sensational and it’s
not an excuse, not about you,
it’s about me.