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 May 2013 Donald Guy
J Drake
A father looks deeply
  into the eyes of his son,
He speaks soft and sweetly:
  "Child, my days are done."

"I've loved every moment
  From the day that we met.
The day of your birth,
  And I'll never forget,
You told me you loved me
  Without using words,
I gave you my heart
  And you gave me the earth.

"And though my life's ending,
   I want you to know,
This is the beginning,
  Of life on your own.
So hear me right now,
   With these final breaths,
And I'll tell you how,
   Your life shall be blessed:

Sing with the water,
  Dance with the bees;
Travel the world,
  And sail on the seas.
Learn to enjoy
  The moments you have;
For now is eternal,
  Yet time moves so fast.

"Learn to love,
  And love to learn;
Light your passion,
  And let it burn.
Reach someone,
  Touch longing lives;
We are all one,
  Together we fight.

"Let go of hurt,
  Learn to forgive,
Understand others,
  We're all new at this.
One day you'll see,
  You'll blink and wake up;
And then you will teach
  Your son to grow up.
 May 2013 Donald Guy
Your pale grass colored eyes flickered towards me in the passenger seat;
cigarette out the window
I stare at my ruby colored lips in the side view mirror
You drum your fingers on the wheel to Blue Bossonova
I remember the dream catcher hanging from the mirror catching my eye;
a majestic golden hue from the sunlight reflecting off of it.

We weren't supposed to be driving the car,
We both knew this, but we were rebels
So I had climbed out my window without my parents knowing
ripping my jeans in the process
just to be with you.

Had I known it would be the last time I'd touch you;
Had I known it would be the last time I'd kiss your lips
I would have stayed in my bed
The Shins blaring through my headphones
Thinking about all the things I'm going to do with you

Had I known it would be the last time seeing you smile
The last time hearing you breathe
Hearing you talk
     Touching your skin
I would have obeyed my parents rules for once.

Instead of staring at your pretty green eyes
I stare at the pretty headlights coming our way
I feel the car swerve to the left;
the dream catcher falling
The car spinning like a dradle in the air
It was like everything were in slowmotion
As I look over at you in horror
your pale green eyes flicker away from mine
closing as if to say
"I'm sorry."
The car comes to a hault.
You were motionless as we were upside down
Tears fall down my ****** cheeks
I scream at you to wake up;
but you wouldn't
Then I stopped wasting my breath
I stopped
Like your heart

Had I known it would be the last time I'd touch you;
Had I known it would be the last time I'd kiss your lips
I would have stayed in my bed
The Shins blaring in my headphones
because now I'm fantasying about all the things we could have done

About all the things we could have said
"You're paying for the electrical bill this time."
"I do."
Now I'm stuck listening to Blue Bossonova
blaring in my headphones
thinking about all the things I'd have to do without you

Had I known
We met at noon between picnic tables and humid Maryland heat.
Either you or the sun made me dizzy, as I talked and you nodded.
We were both distracted by the thought of air-conditioning.

We parted in August among mini-vans and goodbye kisses.
My eyes followed the license plate as you drove away, we agreed to sail catamarans the next chance we had.
We had both noted there was something in the water that summer, something purer than the water from the Chesapeake.

We rejoined in December under a Caribbean sun, not as humid as Maryland’s, surrounded by water purer than the Chesapeake.
There was still a buzz around us, like the air before a Maryland heat storm, to convince us the year of letters was not for naught.

We fell back to old habits on the Dutch side of Saint Martin.
We talked like the future was a choice and we had opted out.
We avoided words like regret and yesterday and repeated words like now, now, now and we spoke in hypotheticals.
We planned our house, or what it would be if we ever got boring enough to say words like tomorrow.

We stopped speaking in July after one thousand four hundred days of avoiding the next.
We should have known we were doomed to fail when “our song” was by Old ***** ******* and “our house” didn’t include a family room.
We should have known when our plans never involved the word tomorrow.
 Nov 2012 Donald Guy
P S Bravo
let it go
it's hard
life isn't a relationship child
it's not about that
it's about you
you are beautiful and you will find love again should you not look for it but let it come
love isn't something you can demand out of someone
it is given
it is like waiting for rain
it doesn't come when you want it
it comes when it comes
and it goes when it goes
you will be okay
you've gone through so much worse
so so much worse
i know because I know you
because i am like you too
i've cried over losing someone i loved
and i've grown from it
i've come through, scared, bruised, and sore
but I've come through
and i've been better for it.
you will too
On Tuesday morning the report said
Los Angeles was beyond the heat wave
the meter had run out
and you turned back to a pack of Camel’s
after avoiding them for seven months and nine days
wreaking of olives and tanqueray
I was without mascara
it had been towed inside of your ’96 Civic
we walked around the morning streets
looking for beer and a way
to go back to before the street cleaners
took away your ’96 Civic and you
lit that first cigarette
We’ll do this right one day,
you said between drags of that first cigarette
I tried to get you to put them away
but we knew it was too late
One day in San Francisco
we were too young to be nostalgic
and yet we looked North
beyond the impound lot
with anticipation towards
milder weather
looked back at the ’96 Civic
being led out past the gate
looked down at the third Camel
between your second and third fingers
with regret I watched it fall to the sidewalk
I wanted to stamp it out
but instead watched the cherry burn
until only the filter remained
and the wind brought it to the space
in between two concrete slabs
we got inside your ’96 Civic
drove South along the freeway
you lit a fourth cigarette
gave a fifth to a homeless man
along the freeway
we listened to wordless music
with windows rolled down
you asked me what I was thinking
thought against telling you I
was already waiting for
cooler weather in San Francisco.

— The End —