The bitter cold came
quickly; it arrived on
the brittle fangs of snow in
October, falling before
Halloween ghouls or the
Advent of December.

We locked ourselves in
that Sunday, watching
it coat the sidewalks
while the little one
knocked blocks together
in front of the fireplace.

You sipped coffee,
crossed-legged on the floor.

And, I swear, no
August heat has ever
made me feel as
warm
as the bitter cold
that came quickly
in October.

I went there without you.
She first spoke to me in the Tower
after poetry and drink.
We discussed broken hearts
and unlovable souls
and how waiting can destroy
even the deepest of loves.

She said I was the lark, ascending
(but the ground pulled at my feet).

She was beckoned toward
a city halfway around the world,
where the markets are always open
and the oceans are always warm.

We still rise to the same sun,

I told her through a screen
as she traveled through
narrow streets on a city bus.

We still fall to the same moon,

she said back, shrouded
in the morning mist.

I went there without you
and I had a visit with my grandpa.
April may be the cruelest month
but October kept him alive for a moment
longer.
We listened to Mozart and
visited and visited some more
until our throats yearned
for water and for rest.
With another kiss on the forehead
he left me for Good.

I sat with Jesus again -
this time in an Astrovan,
remnants of the serpent still
stuck to His heel.
I asked Him to play
Lacrimosa for my grandfather
at the gates of Heaven,
to which He gave me a hug
and we drove back toward
the rising sun.

I went there without you.
I followed rivers to their oceans
as another after another cigarette
hung from the corner of my mouth.
I sat underneath a Seward sunset
and argued with God about
how I didn't want to die
and He kept telling me to
give living a try.
So, I met Satan in
San Diego, and we took a
walk down the Pier as I
folded origami.
I told him I was afraid
of death, but he was distracted
by blondes in bikinis,
so I threw the crane
into the water and watched
as it was devoured by the tide.

I sat with Jesus in Gethsemane
and asked Him if I had a bed in Heaven.
In return, He asked me to stay awake with him,
but the Klonopin was kicking in
and I was too tired to watch Him weep.

I went there without you.
Long drives aren't too long
if you imagine you are on a subway car
in New York City, sitting next to
a lady who smells like cauliflower
and a hint of grief, who tells you
that it's not as dark as you think
it is, Sugar, because you're the one
covering the light.

To which you may respond
but I am not seated!
I am floating!  All around
me in empty space is
empty space and no
light can pierce it!

To which she responds with a
chuckle and an offering of
licorice gum, which you
respectfully decline
because the taste reminds you of
your grandma, who passed away
in March as she slept
(BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH)
and left your mother weeping
at the front door,
hoping she'd come visit again.

To which the rest of the car
bursts into a danse macabre;
a movement over the grave and
into a place much colder than
underground.  They, The Wholehearted,
sway with their bones rattling
in harmony until they clatter
to the floor as marrow meets metal -

then the headlights
jolt you here again,
and you realize that
hundreds of miles
of lonely road await you.

I can measure my life in lonely roads.

I went there without you.
The invitation for Winter
was a blanket of fog,
and my feet were peeking
out from the bottom.
Winter breeds dread
and I coped by spending
restless nights hopping
from bar to bar in
hopes that the right Spirit
would guide me down those
lightless streets and lighted streets,
down the sidewalk on Madison Avenue
trying to make it back to 65th so
I could sleep in my own bed.

In the room the women come and go
talking of D'Angelo.

Black Messiah, not Voodoo;
"Ain't That Easy," not "Playa Playa"
playing through someone's iPhone
out the Bluetooth speakers
on the coffee table next to
the gin and the ashtrayspliff.

The Demon was brought
out of me by the Jack and Coke,
fire from my mouth and eyes
and the headache!
Oh, I begged, on my knees,
my besought hands folded,
asking for the tongue of flame
to be removed from my head!
That my personal Nephilim be
extinguished by the deluge!

And he left me,
as silently as he came,
in a puddle of my *****
on the bathroom floor,
clutching my legs to
my chest.

the boy watches as
snow falls quietly and peacefully outside, similar to
the way his grandfather died
in his sleep -
with a quiet dance, soothing and liquescent.

he treads through the cold dusting the frozen flakes fall onto
his hair and slowly melt,
freezing his skull,
chilling him down into the part of his brain that kept telling him
to stay inside;
to not speak to her.
"don't you ******* listen?
she is like a rainstorm that floods the rivers;
like a hurricane
that tears trees from their roots."

he cannot hear that voice anymore.

he knocks
as timidly as cherry blossoms
fall from their trees.
the door is opened
by the delicate hands
in which he used to bury his head and weep about
the loss of life and the lives that are
too lucky to be alive.
her eyes -
two jade green courtyards where he would spend days
watching the days go by with a blink of an...
eyes that met his -
clear brown as earl grey tea
and as sad as a child falling asleep
without a bedtime story.
he whispers quietly,
feeling his brain thaw
and his heart clawing and begging
for any scrap of hope.

"did you ever love me?"

"no.
i never loved you. i didn't even try."