These people are small town stereotypes
Their great-grandparents were in nursery school together
They can recount who went to prom together for generations back
And divulge every intimate detail about every individual for miles around.
I’m an eighteen-year-old whose biggest accomplishment is “server of the month”
And no family except for a four year old son no one knows about
With no history save for backup vocals in a garage band from the Bronx.
I have to turn this town into my home; do I ever get to swear off the word “impossible”?
I turned it into a swear word the day after my son was born- the one his mamma died.
Oh, god, don’t ask about his mamma. Lorraine. My angel. Born, raised, buried in the Bronx.
There’s a reason she kept the baby. Me. The rough hand I was dealt as a kid. My desire for kids.
But, as every bump on the road will reassure you, every gift comes with a cost.
And that kid- my new whole world- cost me everything. Lorraine, for one.
But now I live in a small town. I have two names: “waiter” and “daddy”.
I don’t do drugs but I do drink; once a month I get wasted. I don’t smoke, steal, cheat, or lie.
But, lord almighty, do I drink sometimes. Like I said, once a month.
I don’t know if it comes from self-loathing or mental state, but there’s no escaping it.
It’s like a rumor whispered in the window of a small town church.

The Cost…by Jessie 2/07

As I stood on the hill surveying
The blackened aftermath
I peered with the eye of an eagle
For life, to cross my path
Many hours I stood there waiting
My rifle tucked under my chin
The sun in the sky, began falling
And realization rolled in with the wind
Nothing was moving
Because nothing was left
Destruction had taken them all
It seemed I was the only one standing
So I allowed my rifle to fall
I gazed to the north
Then back to the south
Not sure, which way I should go
Feeling faint, I dropped to my knees
From the wound in my side, the blood flowed
With shallow breath and cold setting in
I asked myself… what was the cost?
The only thing gained on this ****** day
Was fathers and son were all lost

You think you're right?
Talk about putting up a fight!
How can that be true,
When the only ones that believes is you.

You're wrong, forever and ever.
I don't even need to try to be clever.
Why do you fight back, you've already lost.
Just stop now, while still low is the cost!

What did you just say? No really, I missed it.
I'm sorry I acted like such a twit.
Dinner tonight? Oh you're busy.
That's alright. Man I'm dizzy.

Did she really say that to me?
Never has she been so busy like a bee.
Maybe she's avoiding contact
No, it's probably just an act.

She'll come back to me tomorrow
Free from tears of sorrow.
I hope that's how this ends
And not-- nevermind, my thoughts may not bend.

The next morning she had not returned.
My love, my love, to thee I yearn.
Tears bleed from my eyes,
The gods pick at me, like flies.

Heat fills my face, my breaths stagger.
I love you, please don't be gone.
Please, I can't live without you.
I- I- can't go on. Please come back my love.

Tears on my clothing was the least of my problems.
My life used to be stable, held by columns.
Your absence has weakened them.
What's left is nothing without my gem.

I'm ruined, done with.
With what I thought was a myth.
It's true, don't ever forget it.
My love has been lost, a cost because of wit.