if you want a true lesson
in disappointment
move to a small town
and watch the power go out.

this like many things
is nothing like the movies.

last night
i had a dream
so real-
i wish it was.

theres a burrow in there.
a nook.
a tunnel.
that wakes at its mention.
like a marionette
for its final dance.

i try to keep all the ****
i dont have figured out
in there.

theres a lock on it
but i kept the key too.
its somewhere on my chain
with the others.

the key might be
two gin cocktailes
and not eating for awhile.

i found a place that i left behind.
it still holds the things i look for.

these kids have guns
in their heads
in their hearts
in their homes
in their hands.

these kids have guns
they die on the field.

these kids have guns
twenty one to be exact
rifling souls into the air
whipping through the wind
like crows in a grey sky.

seventeen dead
for twenty one guns.

seventeen dead
and for the ones who arent
a ubiquitous scar.
twenty one guns,

keep a spark
for the ones who made it.

seventeen dead
for twenty one guns.

i still tucked her letter away
even if she managed to contradict
all of its contents.
a heroic feat.
maybe her best work.

i helped a lady
take her groceries to her house today.
it was the same lady
i watched cross the street
it was the same lady
i didnt hear walk into the corner store behind me.
it was the same lady
i let the door fall onto.
i couldnt hear her.

she ended up ahead of me on the sidewalk.
grocery bags on the pavement.
phone on her ear.
i walked by her.
she apologized
said she was trying to get help.
we walked together.
she told me 'help' was on the patio
drinking a beer.
she asked where i lived
and i said a street over.
she said she hoped she'd see me around.
and i said maybe not, im going home for the summer.

she asked if i was getting out of the rat race
im too young for the rat race.

she thanked me a lot
and said
'some good karma will come your way
im a firm believer in that'

me too
i said.

i walked home and thought
i should write a poem about
that conversation.
about giving a second chance
about being a kind person.
about karma.

usually when something like this happens
i write the minute i get home

but i didnt.

i realized, i dont think i can write
about happy things
because when they happen
they always ferment until
they're not what they were.

it was a quick high
a genuine moment.
if karma is real
and that woman is right
either im the devil himself
or theres a big check
with my name on it.

before i started writing
i googled seasonal depression symptoms

apparently not talking to anyone between the months of february and may every year is still a horse with no name.

how do you **** a love
you made yourself.

i leave this town in a week
and i feel as broken
and confused
as the **** i tried to leave

all i want to do is jump in the river
to see if i can really swim
and figure it out from there.

i thought i saw a miracle
tonight.
i watched the moon disappear.
watched the bulbs fade out.

it flickered for a moment
and then its crescent faded into the black
behind it.
like it didn't deserve the spotlight
the attention.
i thought i watched the sun die
i thought i watched the moon die.

i looked around me frantically
i couldn't believe i watched the moon die.
no one else cared
no one said anything.

i watched the moon be reborn again

and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared
and no one cared