If I wasn’t  “here”?.... where is “here”?...
Is it the 14 hr days of work...The lonely bed where even though I call her my wife I sleep alone…….
I can’t say that “here” is exactly my destination...
I think that i would be missed... When the bills became too much... when the work became too much....
I dont think “here” realizes how much I wanna be “there”....
I can count everything good in my world on one hand...
But just like my good hand  only four digits work....
Like on the end of a phone number... Oh the numbers I know ... They dont answer anymore...
Now it’s not soo bad... She trades handjobs for beer... I can be the cause of every instance...
God never gives more than I can carry.... I’ve got the full cable package...
And of course I’ve got addiction...
I have the one friend that because of history.... I am already saying goodbye....
I keep mental notes of the good times... so I can later read them...
But in a mind full of bottles one always spills...
Now most notes are a smear of ink on soggy Post- its.....
But the empties saved are gonna make me a rich man...
I like to think on the return slip the receipt will read.....
10002 mistakes…. 2502 lies….. 14 broken hearts….. 5000 lonely nights and 1 complete **** up....
And at the end it will say total refund..... 17518 regrets...
But i can never return my **** up........ “Here”.........
“Here” I can be happy at 80 dollars a night...
“Here” I only hate everyone....”
“Here” is my life.....
“Here” is where everyone around me thinks I’m happy...
I think when I finally get a chance…. I will go “there”.....
And i will send postcards to everyone and it will read.....
” I think i get it now..... I wish you were HERE”....

What I see is the product of wholesale hate.... an inexpensive solution to happiness… a scratched table leg...
The memory of laughter around a table or in a red station wagon... Long trips in a car with no air conditioning.. When i found out my feet were no longer kissable...
The thought of " Im Happy"..... Maybe its never a good feeling....
Then i learnt that distance is equal to money... Then it was not watching you eat cake...
My wishes were no longer " Ours"....
A bike ride became an excuse to watch the highway.... high flying jumps as you drove by a honk was as good as a hug....
Being mad as you were always asleep in your spot... Hating the dent on the couch...
Now wishing that the imperfection of furniture meant you were still here...
Watching the spot in our garage fill with picture albums...
Where every garage sale Our memories were only a buck....
That day when our red station wagon became a shiny new truck... Still red but to clean as if we were not gritty....
My Friday nights when ten o'clock was the limit.. And faking sober over minty mumblings...
And soon You would say.. "Dont breathe on mom"....
Even though the truth you hid was like a slap in your face...
Saturday morning where a quiet " Davie son"... Was always met by a simple "Im Up"...
A white lie to cover the truth.... I loved Saturdays more than Friday nights...
Fridays were for friends..... Saturday was for my hero, Black tar in faded cups...
Because sugar must have been a luxury you couldnt afford.... I wont drink black coffee anymore......
The more blue creamers make it less painful...
That time you said get out of "His" chair.... Then everyone knew it was MY chair....
Such a simple thing a place where i learned that a set of blue coveralls was as good as a red cape....
A briefcase was not just for lawyers... It was the place where you could find the last picture of us together....
A sunny day where i watched you turn an empty room into a work of art only now I know WE could only appreciate...
The bending two by fours as you made them a highway for black pipes...
That day i carried both tool boxes at the same time... Thinking why did you park so far away?....
But the way you smiled and winked when i put them down...
I catch myself sometimes in moments of pride winking at her.......
Those times where i can hear You in Me and it shoots out my mouth with a "Jesus Christ"...
Then apologies in the form of gifts... Men don't apologize......
I still cant afford your gift.... Maybe its not available in bars.. Or in measured amounts...
It cant be bought all at once...... Only in payments of my best.....
I haven't made a payment in a while....
But I remember I sign an extension every night.... Signed in tears in an office only visible with eyes closed....
Its the only place my chair still exists... A room with a briefcase on a desk... Slurppes with ice cream Dire Straits over the radio....
Playing in a shop i cant get too....
Where i can still carry your tool boxes...
Then flashes of black cowboy boots... Blue coveralls...
But never a smile or a wink...
Then i come back and whimper "Jesus Christ".....
Real men don't cry... Its been a while since i've been a real man...
Now its just an excuse for bars and measurements……

I would sing you song if i could CARRY a tune.... I would always be holding your hand...
Instead of always leaving for work.... My job would be you....
.But never use the word job.... A job seems to be the biggest obstacle..... Early mornings... Late nights... Inappropriate anger that i know you absorb....
How i call home when i feel like i cant do this anymore... And how u never know that i was anything but dad....
The words i can never come up with.... A day without an egg is gonna be really sad...
I would **** anyone who hurts you... Because hearing you in pain kills me.....
I made you..... Hmmm i realize now you made me.....
You made me smile… You made me strong and You made me something i thought i could never be...
What that is will always be  yours....
I once wished to   fall in love... with the perfect girl...
I now know wishes do come true...
I never want you to be anything but you...
The way you sing like nobodys listening...
How a four tooth handicap may be necessary...
Because when you smile its already too amazing...
Where did these four short years go??...
Time can be the only thing i never accounted for...
Every minute i can steal from life i will give to you...
So I can teach you to never steal....
I will always be in the front row of every Christmas concert....
Be on the sidelines of every game...
I'm not watching the Rudolphs or even keeping score...
It's Your game… Your recital....
And if the day ever comes your too scared or embarrassed to be on a stage....You can see me in the front row...
And i hope you give me your best.... You brought out the best in me...
I will never have the same sets of rules for you.... Mine will be simple.... But maybe ill put those in other poems........
And one day when i am no longer cool....... I am no longer fun……..
I will give them to you.... So you will realize that you were always my baby...
And even though i cant sing a song….. I Will always CARRY you….

Everything good goes "Away".....
I wish i knew where "Away" was.....  I know where i left my heart...
Is "Away" that one perfect girl?
With the imperfect smile...  That brought it back to only stunning..
Is "Away" that one house where you felt home?.....
Maybe its making love.... Not *******....
I hate that definition... Like when I told you " I ****** up"......
Or when you ****** my best friend......
The "Away" I can picture is your face under the stars..... With irragation sprinklers in the background......
A broken ankle.... And someone finally taking Care of ME.......
A birthday spent alone with you....
Do they let guys like me in?...... I hope not..
"Away" is a place that  you deserve because  I cant hurt you there....
I can say i never meant to hurt you.... But in retrospect.....
What else would be the outcome?.......
I hope "Away" is you happy....
"Away" is you being someones else's Far and Away.....
I hope you send me letters.... So I could send them back Unanswered..
Because you left me Here.... And I think "Away" Suits you much better...

If I had CONTROL… The word means strength it reminds me of a man who is only alive in my memories….
It’s the first thought after things go bad….. The nervous laughter caused by anxiety……                                
After last nites drunk… Riding in that cop car…. a reassurance that this was your “ plan”….
Hearing her cry on the phone …. Or worse not hearing her at all……
Believing a silence was the same as a forgiveness….
Waking up pretending last nite wasn’t real….          
A joke at work where everyone laughs… Knowing that laughter is better spent on other things..
For every bottle cap or tab is like a countdown to the terrible truth…
Being right there but belief beyond hope keeps you invisible…. Seeing her cry….
The real moment where you cannot remember winning….
The moment where you realize it was never a gamble… She was yours….
Now you watch the parts of your life you hate… Bounce… Asking for seven and eleven….
Not for the win…. Only for the fact the dealer might give you another roll …..
Hoping for snake eyes of her face… belieiving you could read the table…..
And placing it all on control…. Now I know a word like control isn’t much different than gamble…
I don’t understand either… But everyone who asks I say……….
“ I never gamble……. I feel sorry for those who lost control…. “
AND CONTROL MEANS EVERYONE AND EVERTHING........

Most days its just me against the world...
Most days All i ever get is a cold response...
A cold shoulder.. Your high again.......
A cold house... I can make it warm.....
A cold supper... It was my fault....
But most days everyone asks me for a little extra....
At most the only thing they want will cause my discomfort....
Most days I just agree...        
Because its the same as everyday....
I control an army that is mostly expendable.....
With soldiers called Sanity... Hope... Health.....
They mean nothing to no one....
But every night i nurse the wounds...
Of soldiers who only serve the needs of others.....
And the days they dont have to fight....
They are told not to talk too much...
To never say that they are tired...
That they too are something..
They belong to someone.....
No they are simply a disposable front line...
In a battle they must win for the love of their homeland.....
Oh home... They are forgetting that place...
Sometimes they hide in bars.....
Or in plain sight shellshocked from a continued battle....
Nobody cares its what they signed up for...
When they leave there is no longer a girl.... A family... No that is not the goal....
They are just in trenches against odds not in their favor....
Where the enemy is always getting new weapons.....
They learnt how to hide... To strike and hurt innocents....
After all collaterall damage is part of war.....
But as they look n there wake only burnt bridges that led to hope....
Crying children... Maybe they lost their goal..... Sometimes they shake from fatigue... Fear.....
Then its time to get a jolt from chemical not suited for them....
But its viewed as a want.... Never a need.....
I wish there was another way....
Sometimes a soldier goes AWOL...
The others stand in... A force of maniacs....
They just do what it takes to cover the ones who left....
With little care for anyone but themselves....
I dont control that army...
They call themselves Anger, Pain, sadness....
All under a warlord who neither cares or remembers....
He calls himself Addiction....
My army is able to fight them...
Even tho they are outgunned and wounded....
They are strong and run towards certain death.....
Holding pictures of a better time..
A picture of the woman they loved...
She is now only a memeory.....
A song.... A tune everyone tells them is offensive...
A belief.... That once they are victorious....
They might be taken serious....
And promoted from corporals... To seargeants.....
To lead a peaceful rebellion...
They no longer want war...
They want a truce with an enemy...
They only want to go home if only for a short leave....
To tell the people they love...
They are still here.. Please dont forget them....
But each time the shells fall silent... The cities no longer burn...
A crisis.... an atomic bomb brings them back into battle....
I feel sorry for them.....
My stories of motivation are now tales...
I wouldnt believe me either...
This was always my war....
They are just old friends now...
Gray and weak.. we no longer laugh or visit....
They just do what they have learnt to do.....
A good soldier never questions...
To die for their country is just a fate.....
I can only hope as each one dies...
I can hold them for at least a moment...
To thank them.....
To let them know i remember them....
How glorious they once were...
We thought we would own the world.....
Now each day im writing letters to memories....
Im soory to inform you..... They will be greatly missed....
I am sad these were great soldiers... But at least I know as they are killed....
It wont be long till I go.....
If I lose to the other force.... Heavan help everyone I care for.....
They will destroy them...
But another morning... Another battle....
Maybe today is the day...
When they get to go home... They get to feel loved to be cared for...
But i dust off their helmets and they head back out to battle.....
I dont have the heart to tell them...
I know we are gonna lose...
Its never been a war I believed they could win.....