Drowning
Gasping
Swallowing gulps of
Desolation
I had a life jacket
Ripped it off
Was so
Constricting
It kept me from swimming
Who knew
I just needed to keep afloat
Now
Sinking to
The Depths
Eyes glazing
over
Pulse slowing
Heart faltering
I will never
See
The Sun Rise
or Set
Again
I did this to myself
all the skeletons
sitting quietly in my closet
piled one atop the other
neat and organized
collecting dust in storage
are others
as orderly as mine
or
are they a haphazard mess
femurs and fubulas
tumbling tibias
scattered scapulas
avalanching out in a chaotic cacaophony
whenever someone
merely
jiggles
the knob
not sure
but the idea
bothers me
no
its best to keep
these things
trim and tidy
should a stranger
peek in
They’ll see
only
winter coats
rain boots
and stacks of
nothing
important
I wanted wisdom
but the filmy eyed bar woman – missing teeth… loosened flesh
gave me a beer
I tipped it back
expecting answers
none came.
Laughter
Cigarettes
Patsy Cline
huh… he likes Patsy Cline
Another bottle emptied
And Willie sings to me
from the jukebox
On the road again
It’s all so sad.
So heart-wrenchingly painful
Going places that I’ve never been
But I swig another
I dance a little
I glance at the tiny grandmother – smiling – calling me a taxi
random thought –
I was not meant for beauty
But I happened to get a taste
For a moment
Seeing things that I may never see again
And it was better than the bottle after bottle
I’ve held to my lips
A stranger pays for my cab
A friend calls me from home
A bed catches my stupor
And all I can think about
is the old woman who handed me a drink
and asked how I was doing
“I’m doing fine.”
as always.
…. And I can’t wait to get on the road again
thought i was tired
smoking my last cigarette
in a city
not my own
watching another pack of stray dogs stroll stridently
tongues hanging loose
without a care
wonder what they’re thinking.
little bubble pops in my head
i wish i was a four-legged nomad
nonchalantly trotting along
with my gypsy canine counterparts
i’m not.
more like driftwood
always have been –
floating along
going where the tide takes me.
damn near burn my fingertips
on a bad habit
that does nothing to quell anxiety
night is done
alone
at sea
i will crash upon a shore
maybe
someone will snatch me up
carve me
into something useful
maybe even
beautiful
doubtful.
But Otherwise Fine 