Heavy sleep. Alarm clock blaring. The bus I missed. The way you
looked at me when I sat down. How you liked the shirt I was wearing.
My awkward compliment on your outfit. Your number in my phone.
Paying for the first date with you. For the third. The incredible ***.
Paying for the twentieth date. Months passing. Two Anniversaries and
one ring. The apartment we bought. The bed we shared. The things we
said. The moments we had together. Overwhelmed by my feelings for
you. Wrestling in the kitchen. Quiet nights at home. Pet names. A
sense of comfort. The time that went by. The stress from your job. My
overtime at work. Not tonight dear, I have a headache. Arguing over
directions. Nothing to worry about, just a rough patch. Silence at
dinner. The big fight. The divorce papers. Your confession that you
never loved me. The hole where my heart used to be. All the alcohol I
drank. All the women I ******. Convincing myself that I’m past you.
Time at the gym. Wave to the cute girl at the bar. Get a haircut. Start a
diet. Smile at strangers. Buy a new car. Just fine, never better. See you
with him at the grocery store. My silent indignation. His hand with
yours. The tears on the way home. Grinding my teeth. I'm too good for
you anyway. The beer I consumed. The tree I drove into. The meetings
I went to. The way I hated myself. The way I hated you. The way I still
loved you. The way I knew I always would. The way I hated realizing
that. The depression. The *******. Still sleeping on the right side
of the bed. The volunteer hours I completed. The charity worker I met.
The mediocre ***. The way she said she understood me. My guard
coming down. Forgetting the way you looked. Deleting the messages I
saved. Sighing. My second marriage. The kids she had with me. The
years that melted together. Hearing you moved a while back from an
old neighbor. Long walks by myself. Everyday seeming the same.
Never feeling right. All the years I woke up

cold,

alone,

still wishing you were next to me.

all these hollywood actors
with their photoshopped smiles
holding hands for money
on the cover of a movie
and sharing that look
like they've done it for years
'cause they have

well, they have and they haven't
and they're back and they're forth
while the magazines listen
and spew it back
from the racks
in the grocery store checkout


and to think, all i wanted was my skittles.


but i got thoughts down the stream
from the glint of the gloss
of the reality they practice
and fine tuned as an art
so i get to thinking
maybe it doesn't matter if you're happy,
just that the world thinks you are

i can't look away though,
i just see a blushing trainwreck
happy on her wedding day,
a future diet pill representative
or fresh out of rehab
because that's the way my mind works,
still talking like someone's listening
when it knows my ears don't work that well,
they just don't.

and i'm not angry
and i'm not even scared
i'm just tired of the life between
the things that we live for



so when the lady at the register smiles
and asks if i'll be paying cash or credit
i feel bad that i have to tell her
i'm sorry, i just don't think i'm that hungry anymore

now, every time,
it's like looking a complete stranger in the eye
and saying "I want to know everything about you,"
only to have them reply "I'm not sure we've met."

and so you cut your hair
and so you take your walk
and so you have the same conversation
over and over
and over and over
and over and over and over
until you can't anymore,
because you can't anymore.

one way or another,
you'll just keep starting over
(and over)
(and over)
(and over)

your voice was some kind of faint afterthought
drifting around in the ether.
i reached with fingertips stretched
only barely to graze
what had left as swiftly as it came

in that moment,
in that perfectly fleeting instant,
i felt whole and brave.
but the whole turned to half
and the brave didn’t catch.

sure, it’s a thorn in my side
(more like a mark on my hide),
but my lungs will still fill
with every drop of air
they could ever care to hold
and breathe, i shall.

you see,
my mistakes have led me down a path
and my life has given me a past
and i've known forevers that don't last
and i've mixed my treasures with my trash

for, you see,
some things don't happen (though i wish they would)
but it's all the bad that makes us good

I want to know what goes on
behind those pretty little eyes
before the night has won you over yet again.

I want to know where you sleep
and if there's room enough for me
Is that so bad?
I'm sorry.
I just don't quite know how to say what's been on my mind.

It's no longer the scent of you, but the idea of something swift enough
to knock the wind up out of me
Released like a dandelion's spores to the sun, forever drifting, never certain.
Signals displayed like a backwards highway road sign.

Reduced speed ahead.
Icy Conditions.
Stop.

I get it. Don't think this is linear.
This is as open ended as a tired maze.
a lazy labyrinth.
I've got options.
I've got options!
Not a should have, but a would have.

As I float upon the stream of consciousness, it happens.
Your face in a photo.
My hand through your hair.
Glimpses of images I'll never remember when I need to.
Your breath was hot.
My pupils were huge.
Silence.
Everlasting Silence.
Forever in fifteen.
Beauty in my presence.
You always were quiet just right.

Lost sandals.
Walking with purpose.
Parties.
Empty kids at the table.
*******.
Rainy Days.
Political *******.
A monologue of copied words with meanings applied.
Over music
The soft staccato, the quickening pulse,
the minor key trying to be major, to prove that he's changed, but he just needs a chance.

The song ends diminished, and everyone walks off.
Dejected.
Distraught.
Dying to know why.

there's a strange symmetry to the words we speak,
because i see the twinkling waves your mouth has formed.
yes, i'd be your albatross if you let me
but not to weigh you down.

no, let me show you where i sleep
among the stars and thinning air.
you see, i'm tired of flying alone
or with birds too weak to follow,
but i've spotted you sailing thrice beneath me,
and the shake of your scent still stings my senses.

and though my beak just wants to speak quite clearly
"hello, young maiden, care to join me?"
my tongue only fumbles and sings my song.
listen, listen, can't you hear it?



then i awoke.
cold and alone,
with the sheets still wrapped 'round me.
oh, where had i been?
only moments ago
i could've sworn i was out to sea

but what of my dreams?
so vivid and sleek,
yet intangible to the core.
more bitter than sweet,
still stumbling through sleep,
i can't help but think that i've seen this before

in the back of my mind
lies an albatross dead,
adrift in the ocean's spray.
just a memory told
to no one at all,
before it quietly slipped away.

i feel it slipping away.

i'msorrythere'sgottabeabetterwaytodothisbutyougottaknowit'sjustth­at



when i
wrote you that
letter, all
scribbles and
nothings i
kissed every
page although
i knew that
you'd never know

i was all
kinds of ******
up and i
don't mean i
was on some
thing this time
just that you
make me feel
nervous and
cautious, like
i want you
to think i'm
smart think i'm
charming and
worthwhile

and you see
i'm not so
used to that
because for
me it's so
easy to
tell them it
means nothing
tell them i'm
not looking

and that's what
i want what
i wanted
where i was
but then i
lifted my
gaze that day
from my thoughts
to the way

your laugh would
follow up
from the words
off my tongue
and noticed
i could not
care less bout
anything
else else else

so then we
kept it all
going and
you know how
it happens
one look sticks
too long and
there lies the
problem, so

so you push
and you push
and i get
pushed a
way but i'll
just keep on
talking i'll
just keep on
crossing my
digits that
there's something
there's something
there's something
there's something

cause the way
i see it
i think you're
just scared i
think that you're
scared of the
things i could
make you feel

maybe it's
because of
what they did
to you be
fore we met
but for one
reason or
another
that's just the
way that it
is but i
will not be
okay with
that be just
fine with it
'cause i see
through your ****

so i push
and i push
and you feel
pushed away
but that's the
opposite
effect i'd
like my ac
tions to take

so what do
i say what
can i do
i get out
the bottles
i get out
the dealers
i play through
charades and
i smile
and smile

and i wait
and all of
the while
there's this thought
floating a
round in the
back of my
head and it's
just your name

how it would
feel so nice
to say feel
so nice to
feel like it
was my name
to say was
my name to
hold onto

but then i
get pulled back
to present
timing and
it floats all
the way back
to the back
of my head

then i pick
up old ways
then i sigh
old habits
to replace
what i want
what i want
and i get
lost and get
lost and get
lost and get
lost til i'm
found but til
then i get
lost and get
lost and get
lost and get
lost and well

when i wrote
you that let
ter i was
all kinds of
****** up
and when i
read it i
burned it and
when i burned
it i saw

your name at
the top turn
to ash and
blow away

and it killed
me it killed
me it did

Oh, Marcia,
I want your long blonde beauty
to be taught in high school,
so kids will learn that God
lives like music in the skin
and sounds like a sunshine harpsicord.
I want high school report cards
to look like this: