They say you’re mobile now,
but like a cartoon, the
ghost of your outline suspends
behind you on the road.

How long it hangs before it is the
same stuff as breath on a cold day,
only God knows; and He
cannot be found for looking.

You have read every rule the
great poets and philosophers
have etched. Your technical
grasp of love is paramount.

But to the quiet tremble
of the skin, to the warm and
unfearing heart, you are the
sweetest of novices. Go, drive away

and read no more of love.
You have studied enough.
Go drive away until you
remember why you ever

coughed the ignition into life
in the first place. And take
it as a sign that the reverse
gear refuses to play along.

There is a gutsy finality to
the way you add curls of cream to the cup;
a knowing glint in the chintzy sheesha,
second-hand, jewelled, meditating on the
window-seat behind you. Beds of children
form foamy chains against the azure blankets

out there, above your head. Your glasses are
windowpanes, screens to a lighter view. Curled
in your belly is a shaman with the
bold dimensions of a project. You stir.

I feel the tears coming on
I push them away
Shake my head
Lift my chin
I refuse break
Not again.

I am stronger than to let myself
Be bullied around
By my own thoughts
Fingers pointed
In no specific direction
No fault to blame
No one to call out
Just my intense feelings
Overtaking me.

I push
And push
It’s no wonder I am exhausted
Always fighting to keep my head above water
Either drowning
Or falling under.

My well being getting smaller
Words of others get louder and larger
People don’t hesitate to walk all over
The weak or struggling.

Times have changed
Can’t trust my neighbor
If I need to be saved
Risk doing it alone
Or being disappointed
Options aren’t very desirable
Like choosing between
Bad or worse
Each comes with their own surprises
Hurt or be hurt.

Unsure of the girl in the mirror
Her reflection becoming unclear
I stopped checking glances
Because I only see
Things I want to change
It’s not physical pain
It’s the emotional damage
That keeps me ******.

I feel trapped or lost
So I run
But flight always leads back to fighting
Can’t ever fully escape
It needs to be faced.

I am brave
But not a hero
I have courage
But still afraid
I am powerful
But dart my shadow
I am complex
Simple would be nice for change
But I am overtaken.

Simply overtaken.

Fingers move up the frets
blues entwined with the metal slide
drowsy smoke swaying with hips and pool *****
knock with the jukebox keeping time.

You’re ******* down another drink
drown out demons
haunting your soul,
hoping you can take someone home.

Forgotten beauty, only fear
lurking in the heavy air
the bar is spinning and every lesson
you've learned, you’re dead set on forgetting.

Regulars hustle another game
trying to win back years lost
in this basement
that smells of ***** and **** and sin and long lost dreams.

They come to forget
the war, they come to forget
the rent they owe, they come to forget
why they came to this godforsaken bar in the first place.

My eyes glaze over
watching the ghosts drifting around
green felt tables and the old dusty dart boards
heavy hearts hidden under calloused layers of tough love.

When the lights come on and the music stops
your touch pushes me further into the haze
and every plan is put on hold when
your lips find their way up my neck
teasing every nerve until I forget how to breathe.

The forgotten and the lost
roaming aimlessly together
to the tunes of regret
the pangs of sadness
drinking only to forget.