It came to me like a wave
as I opened my eyes
- pounding from the back
the light streaked in
between the blinds
reprimanding that the day
was already half gone
I remembered my own
words from the night before
spoken gregariously
over pint half empty
and glass puddling what
were once cubes of ice
- I had just drunk
the last of the whisky
flavored water
wanting to get every
last drop from the glass
I closed my eyes again
my mind racing through thick molasses
- why again was I such a fool
- what must they think of me
This ritual of Saturday morning
- chest burning with acid
mixed with shame
- I wondered to myself if I
would ever make it stop
Crawling out of bed
I dressed and wondered if I should
call and apologize, or just
walk down to the pub
and start again
A soft phantom silence
sings through your printed words
like a pantomime sans melody
I can feel the rhythm of your spirit
in steady beats
as I pass through the lines
of your letters
Yet I can only imagine
the look in your eyes as you write
and the timbre of your tone
as you speak
I don’t recognize the voice
I imagine, though it’s likely from
a movie I saw long ago and
don’t remember
One with a sultry, mysterious defector
whom you never really
know if she’s on your side
Beauty scarce to find, we keep on searching
As we muddle through the day and curse the night
Forgotten hopes and dreams forever lurking
Beyond the distant reaches of our sight
In times of old from town to town they travelled
Appearing unexpected for a day
Our simple world joyfully unravelled
From tightly wound decorum of decay
Today the world abounds with soft diversion
Distractions from our work-a-day regret
Still we search to find an easing of our burden
Complexity confounds our seeking, yet
The troubadour still walks the craggy earth
His beauty lives – in song, in tale, in verse
She was tall and blonde and
I hadn’t known her long -
She was sweet and sad
with impressive breasts
and legs that just kept on going
Back then I was young
and confident and didn’t
often drink too much
I thought I was cool because
I could quote Shakespeare
and I read poetry
without rhymes or capital letters
She was a vision walking
across the room in that dress
and her smile was almost
as impressive as her calves,
well defined from the strain of
standing all night in heels
For most of the night
I kept a respectable distance
occasionally walking up
and placing a hand on
the small of her back,
expecting and accepting
her surprise and a long look
from her big blue eyes
that sang
She had simple tastes and
a simple mind, and went on
and on about how smart I was
because I could quote Shakespeare
and read poetry
without rhymes or capital letters
But when she pulled my
paperback copy of is 5
from her purse, walked up to
the microphone and read
it badly, I decided it was over
Three days later I told her I
couldn’t see her anymore
because – because I don’t
know it wasn’t her it was me
I still want to walk up to that kid
and knock some sense into him
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