"pelligrino" poems
tiny pencil shaving ships
in the green glass bottle
sail san pelligrino seas
that fizz and boil endlessly
in the enchanting microcosm
Jun 16, 2010
Jun 16, 2010 at 4:37 PM UTC
~A Moment of Happiness~
It started out as an ordinary day,
Any ordinary day in one’s life.
We had probably been out the night before,
This memory escapes me now.
We woke to coffee and cigarettes
As we usually did.
You were on the Gucci site
Showing me the style of suit you had wanted.
We decided to hit Gucci on 5th Avenue.
Parenthetically, if you remember,
I wore sweats and a T-shirt, and you,
You wore your father’s old suit which kept it’s wear.
Here we were, walking toward Gucci,
Debating on whether I should visit Iceland on holiday.
Outside the store,
We were one of the anonymous,
But inside, we stepped into another world,
One of the rich, on 5th Avenue in New York City
Where price tags do not exist.
I remember the elevator ride and our conversation.
Stepping out to be greeted by a salesperson,
Whom I ordered around and kept on his toes due to his thirst for a sale.
A vision of you,
Standing there in the suit chalked up by the tailor.
I handed you a wine glass filled with Pelligrino,
To wash down the Xanax forced into your mouth.
When all was done, we were outside again,
Amongst the anonymous.
Later that night, we sat at the Whiskey Bar celebrating our day.
I remember hearing glimpses of U2’s “Beautiful Day”
In the background and thinking how appropriate.
I thought this was the beginning of happiness,
And there would always be more.
It was happiness, the moment.
All our feelings, yours and mine, all mixed up.
The madness of it all.
You see I wanted to give you it all, the world if possible.
To make you happy, in every viable platform.
I know now you didn’t feel the same.
Left with everything unsaid and undone between us.
Having that one day with you was my moment of happiness.
You have given all you had to offer for me.
For us.
I am here and you are there,
A huge distance between us.
Know, even though we have not spoken,
I am here,
For the conversation, the friendship, the silence.
Remember always what I said to you before I fled to England,
The night we walked the promenade;
Love doesn’t end just because we don’t see one another.
No matter how you look at it,
It’s only Love after all.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 2:11 PM UTC
His marriage imploded; smoke and insinuations. It was a shock that he always knew was coming. His conscience sent him North; a man and his bags. He was 38 and had gained weight. A once handsome face melting away into middle-aged near-obesity. Ruing over what he was not proud of, every human interaction was endlessly scrutinised. He felt that he had a true essence that he had not yet uncovered. If he could discover it then he would build a new story around it, one that would get his life back on track. His meals were no hopers; microwaved, industrial and sodium filled. His meals and his days did not nourish him. Feeling lonely, he had started to go to the pub. Although he stuck out, he found the locals rough but friendly enough. They, the 3 lads, were going to come around for a smoke. A little bit of companionship might stop the walls from eating him up. They were all in their mid-twenties, he'd guess, so younger than him but not oddly so. He flipped between politics today and sky sports news; chain smoking like it was a vital function. He drank a can of san pelligrino blood orange, slowly, his mouth overwhelmed by the sugary taste. He sighed from the tip of his toes to the crown of his head. Within an hour, like his marriage he would no longer exist.
Nov 22, 2019
Nov 22, 2019 at 8:10 AM UTC