Hey Eddie,
       where are you tonight? I'm outside and my body aches. My feet are frozen too. Do you hate my cigarettes? I'm sorry I'm weak sometimes but I think you understand. I still haven't felt you, maybe once on the hill, but I live in Long Beach now. Not close to the hill or your home or our streets. Crazy huh? It's a long way from where I thought we'd end up. Do you remember how much you liked sushi? I had some today. It tasted like the river and the rope swing. I wonder if you would recognize me. I'm a mess Ed, a mess. I'm posting this on some website in hopes that it finds its way to you. I'll write it down too, then burn it over a mountain so the ashes might meet with yours. I don't know. I'm tired, so tired. Hey Eddie, where are you tonight?

I wrote a piece for class and had it critiqued, all about how
I can't remember Eddie's voice
and can't ask his parents for videos
to keep from digging up their pain.
Today I found a flash drive, one I can't place in mind. Popped it in, and tears leaked to my chin because there sat
video file after video file of Jake, Dennis, Eddie, and me on birthdays and outings, at the archery range. It's strange that the voices are young but I can hear him, I can hear him, I can remember

My circadian rhythm's all ****** up
I can't seem to care about it all that
much
wake up late it's okay
I'll smoke my cigarette
and start my day

Go to class I guess I will
for an hour or so till I get
my fill
then I'll say,
"**** the rest
I'm tired of this test!"
I'll take the bus home
to my loneliness
where I'll wait
I'll wait
I'll wait

when melodies I hashed up
in the past pass by my lips
sudden images surface
hips, finger tips
who I was, who I've become
since you made me your biggest
someone
then used your mouth like a gun
breath as bullets
for your Colt .45 breakup
I think my fingers were
on the trigger
I was the one who pulled it
so I lay down my guitar
with a sigh beggining deep inside
then rub my eyes
shove aside thoughts that make me die
hydrate my hate for change
by hitting play on songs
you listened to
it's true, though I'm blue
and still haven't a clue
wether I ever really
loved
you

It's eight p.m.
My hand holds connection
to friends
car keys turn in the ignition
forty minutes
a few cigarettes
park in the dark
LA greets me
An hour later I'm tipsy
two days later I'm hungover
my left *** cheek bruised
no closer to nirvana
I just wanna forget Long Beach
here my reach outs get response
my lonely haunts turn into
songs
here I have company
that doesn't mind a stiff drink
a wild night
I think it's safe to say
I've gotten a new form
of
running
away