I walk and talk
as they do,
feeling the earth
beneath my feet,
wishing I meant
the words I speak.

I see them
on the other side
of the chasm,
bottomless
and unbridgeable,
laughing and smiling,
waving me over.

They don't see it at all.

All I can do is watch them,
grit my teeth,
and shake my head no,
as I mouth the words
I can't, I can't...
and they laugh,
and nod yes...
yes...of course you can.

They can't see it,
so they laugh.

The sound pelts me
like hailstones
and I wither inside
as I stifle a scream,
wanting not to see it either,
wanting to gouge my eyes out,
and believe
in the solid ground
between us.

I am not sure
which of us is hallucinating...

I curse the moon
for rising tonight,
the audacity
to shine its sliver of light
across my darkness.

May it be swallowed up
by the night
as I am
by this bed
and this blanket
pulled over my head.

I used to think about you
and hold my pillow
as it molded itself
to my shape.

But no more -
there was too much hope
in that pillow,
the way it fit against me
so perfectly.

The hard stare,
the stiff upper lip,
the cocky bark,
and the smart *** reply
elevated to an art form
are old habits by now.

Polished by years
of abuse from guys like himself,
like cons in a prison yard
exploiting every crack
in a newbie's facade.

He flips the radio on
while stopped at a red
on the drive home
from the job site,
after a day of kicking around
his new apprentice,
with the soft hands
and boyish face.

And turns to goosebumps
hearing John Lennon's voice
sing the long forgotten lines
of a song about the working man.

A drop forms in his eye
as he listens,
and he blinks like he’s trying
to **** it back in,
but it falls,
runs down his left cheek
like a tiny river
across the desert.

He angrily wipes it
with his sleeve,
(another old habit)
switches off the radio,
and shifts in his seat.

Then he looks around to see
if anyone saw him do it,
but the people in their cars
are all staring straight ahead
waiting for the green.

He walks the earth
placing the minutes
in his pockets
like shiny pebbles
plucked from a river,
and grows heavier,
dragging his feet,
but still bending
to pick them up.

He holds them aloft,
inspects their color,
runs calloused fingertips
over their polished surface,
then stuffs them in
with the others.

He shuffles along
like a man twice his age,
pockets overflowing.

The way we spend our money
after the days and weeks,
the years served
in dead end jobs,
inside buildings
like grey prisons...

It’s like we want to get rid of it
as quickly as possible,
the same way
we wanted those hours,
those days
on the job
gone,
like bedbugs or the clap,
or some flea infested stray
scratching at the door.

Behind locked doors,
walls and fences,
in alarmed houses
in neighborhoods
with guard shacks.

With killers behind bars,
lions in cages
and sharks in tanks,
our fingers touch the glass
and do not tremble.

Behind gun barrels
or peace signs,
mountains of cash
or absurd ideologies.

Behind beliefs about self,
the world, reality,
and other people,
and clinging to those who agree.

And in inner chambers
and dark crawl spaces
hidden from shifting light,
we seek what we cannot have.

Not when the poison seeds
hide in us waiting to sprout
and rip us to shreds.

And yet,
we sprouted from these
same seeds like saplings
from rotting stumps.

My BMX was department store,
black and yellow
like a bumblebee,
and weighed a ton
compared to their
alloy framed bikes.
They made fun of the kickstand
and the chain guard.

I was the class runt
and wore hand me downs
and rolled up jeans
sometimes with patches,
more fodder for jokes.

In the summer we camped
in the Adirondacks,
and in the fall
at the bus stop
or in school
they talked about trips
to France or Spain.

I had a fist fight
with an older kid
down the block
who lived in a house
with a swimming pool
when he said my house
looked like a barn.

I think I still see the world
through the tint
of those dollar green glasses
they made me wear.

And I shout down
the echoes of those voices
that condemn others with less,
and me with them.

But I got tough taking beatings
from bigger older boys.
And my legs got strong
pedaling that heavy bike uphill.