11 years ago
I was walking on top
Of a small wall
Along the sea.

I tripped
And fell
And smashed the back of my head
On a sharp rock.

I came to
With my father and mother
Looming over my face.
Now that I think about it
It was pretty convenient
That they would find me there.

I have had a good life,
But to me,
It has been too good.
I have done nothing to deserve
Anything that I have.

I think back on that time,
Walking on that sea wall,
And wonder if the last 11 years
Have all been a dream
And I really am
Still by the sea
Seconds away from dying.

I believed in her like
She was the woman I loved
Who told me that she loved me
Or
The suit and tie
Telling me that they would contact me again
After that last job interview
Or
The manager who told me
I did a good job
And I was indispensable

I killed you,
Mrs. Mosquito.
In another life,
You could have been a dog
And we would have been friends.
But in this one, where
I am still me
And you were still you,
All that was different was
You were a mosquito.

As I stare at your corpse
Which is now just
a splat of my own blood
on my left forearm,
I only think of how meaningless your death was
and maybe how mine will be as well.
You were a mosquito
And perhaps I am one too.

She was short
Short haired
Short tempered
Short lived.

If you forget, that is fine
We all forget sometimes
If you forget, that is okay
It's easy to forget someday.

If you remember,
Do you look back sometimes, too?
Do you remember,
I ponder.
Well, do you?

Each step
Upon the pavement
Feels as though
I am lightly tapping
The keys of a piano.

Each step I take
Is another note
In a clumsy melody.

For a second I am convinced
That there really is music
And now it is my turn to play.

I feel nostalgic
For a long winter night
In Vancouver
Years ago.

A pair of gloves
Shared between
Two pairs of hands.

There is no warmth
Like the warmth
Of another.