I never remember what song was
playing.
I never recall the weather.
I can’t force the patterns to align
in a way that will let me see
the time on any nearby clock.
I don’t smell something in the
wind that will take me back.
But your eyes, blue and
filled with tears.
Your mouth, the lower lip
****** in slightly. Your
teeth pushing it so it looked
as though it would burst.
Your words, I’ll always remember
the words.
The sentence that defeated me.

Where were we?
What had we eaten?
Was anyone else even there?

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

I’ll always hear that in my head.
My gift for memory is tied to
the people I want to remember.
It always had been.
But you, my love,
I remember you best of all.

Place mats covered in doodles
have defined all of my outings with
friends and loved ones.
With pen and the blank spaces
around the adverts
I will push a new world into
this tired realm.
Here are people without
their hands chained to the
baggage of their lives.
Here are perfect people.
I wonder if they have belly buttons.
I wonder sometimes if I
have any control over them at all.

How you delight to watch me struggle.
I’m tearing always at these bonds you’ve
shackled me with.
Always.
Like trying to breath in cellophane.
Sinking.
Waiting for the bottom to fall out.
In endings it is said that there
is a new beginning.
I won’t ask for that.
I want freedom.

For too long this mold you’ve cast
me in has been my identity.
Has been my purpose.
Chained to this floor while
the world spins and grows
and laughs and loves around me.

******* your nature.
The weight of your aspect hangs
about my neck.
Labeled.
Contained.
Quiet.
Polite.
Behaved.

I will touch that sky.
I will feel my finger tips graze
the surface of greatness.
I will be so hungry for more.
How will you keep me then?

Outside: I can hear the cars race by.
Horns blare out their dull song.
Radio broadcasts barely audible over
the outside world around them.

When movement strikes these bones
I rise with nothing and wander
to nowhere.
I stand among parking lots
and trees.
Among people and night skies.
Sun and moon.

My soles are worked almost bare.
There is peace in solitude.
There is life in movement.
There is a quiet kind of strength in
looking forward.
I want to be a part of these things.
I want to feel them stir in me
until they are all that is left.
Until my thoughts are
consumed by them.
By the chill wind against my cheeks.

Until I am a new man.

When I read the lyrics they were different.
I’d spent the last twelve years
singing the wrong words.

I sang words filled with hope.
Words that moved me to act.
That challenged me to better.
I sang words of my own invention.
Words I didn’t know were wrong.
.
Twelve years ago I was telling
myself to persevere.
Today that song came on.
I opened my mouth and waited.
I like my words better.

I’m flat on the table staring up at myself.
There is a small smile on my face.
As though I understand something.
I’m younger on the table.
A decade?
More?
What did I know?
My god, I was young.
My hands move.
They are weathered.
Beaten and old.
Veins pop out in odd places,
at odd angles.

I’m sitting at the table looking down at myself.
I’m older now.
Wiser, I hope.
There is no smile.
I tell myself that wisdom and smiles
are not mutually exclusive.
I hope I’m right.
No more cameras.
No more pictures.
I can’t handle it anymore.

She crosses the room.
Sets her things down
and sits beside me.
“What do we do?”

There are platitudes.
Overcome.
This too shall...
Words are false and hollow.
They don’t prepare you
for these challenges.

Envelopes filled with bad news
and money owed pile up
on the little table by the door.
“What do we do?”

Tired eyes search tired eyes.
There is love there, but far too
much struggle.
Life was not meant to be
a battle.
Love was meant to prevail.
To guide.
“What do we do?”

“I don’t know! I don’t ******* know!”
You shout. Too loud.
Too sudden.
Tired, so tired.
This is now.
This is who you are?

She smiles. Holds your hand.
You smile back. Weak and defeated.
“I know, baby.”
She says.
“I know.”