valentine (2-13-14)

no, it's not good enough to shrug,
"singles awareness day"
as if making a joke out of tangible loneliness
obscures the legitimate isolation you feel.

be mine?

full of expectation.
maybe someone noticed me?
an exquisite rose or box of chocolates
will validate me somehow.
money being spent on me
must mean that my living and breathing
and working and crying
is important. and worthwhile.

be mine?

if nothing comes.
a sigh, perhaps the slightest quiver in the lip.
a few well-worn jokes about singleness
eating candy alone, at night.
watching a movie.

and the sneaking feeling that
something is
                                                     

                                                               m  i   s   s   i   n   g .

will anyone ever be mine?

juxtaposition (2-12-14)

the snow along the side of the road
is hard and blackened by passing cars
it's never going to melt.
i sigh and curse each day it hasn't gone
its presence cold and unwelcome.
spring will never come.
though winter's chill is unfailing in its
persistence to overstay its welcome,
soon enough, hope will poke its shy, green face
out of the dirt and into the cool March sunshine.
i can't remember what the trees look like with leaves
i think to myself as i wander through skeletal remains
of formerly glorious oaks, shivering and gaunt in the wind.
but that is reason enough for me to secretly thank the winter
for its freezing winds and bitter cold
for the snow piled high and the gray, clouded skies.
just when i have no memory of spring
and cannot imagine it ever being beautiful and warm

it arrives.

and that is why i love the winter.
without it, i would not love the spring.

when did you become the albatross?

i want to be the one who got away
not the one you got away from

this slow painful descent down the
stairs of I Drove Him Away
into the cellar of It Was All My Fault
hasn't done much for my confidence

especially considering that at the beginning
i was the catch and you--
you were the leap of faith.

i never quite understood when it changed.
when my upper hand switched positions;
feeling like i was charting our course
to suddenly plummeting
to the depths of the ocean with a cinderblock
tied to my feet (already miles below the surface)
and you were merely glancing down at the water
absentmindedly wondering:
where did those bubbles come from?

i want to be the one who got away
not the one you got away from

and even as those in my life whose opinions
i value so deeply
told me again and again and again and again
let it go.
you can do better.
look at the state he left you in.
why would you want him back?
and even as i tried to tell this to myself
drowning in the blankets of my bed
barely able to gasp for air amidst the waves of my misery,
i didn't believe it.

not because i didn't recognize the certain
incompatiblities between us. and not because i truly feel that
you are the only person who could ever make me happy.
(because i see how in many ways you cannot make me happy
and how you already did not make me happy.
how you in fact made me unhappy.
the unhappiest i have ever been and could imagine being)

but because to me it is not fair
to go from being absolutely adored
to being merely tolerated.
to go from being the sunlight through the clouds
to being a begrudged obligation.
something now that hurts me more than i thought possible.
(feeling like i am merely an item to be checked off a list)

(at the same time, i think to myself
of all the moments that were perfect and eternal.
the way that we seemed to understand each other
and together be--what anyone wants to be with someone else--better people)
was that not real?

maybe i knew all along that
this tumultuous sea of  joy and grief
the swells and shallows of bliss and despair
would never last.
but if i did, i did not adequately prepare myself.
hold steady against the lashing wind and driving rain.
and all now i can think of in this storm--
this endless, defeated, uncomparable storm--
is this cadence slowly pounding on the shores of my regrets

i want to be the one who got away
not the one you got away from

please use other door

I make a point of avoiding

back entrances

side doors

and alternate routes into buildings

maybe it's my innate fear

of getting in trouble. 

of somehow mistaking one door

for another;

being somewhere

I'm not supposed to be. 

(and really, what would happen?

self-deprecating laugh---reddening cheeks--apology---door closed---life goes on)

or perhaps it's my tendency to

barrel headlong into situations,

to face everything straight on. 

I detest all that is sneaking

and passive aggressive and implied. 

subtleties do not impress me. 

beating around the bush (or walking around the building) is not my style. 

or, perhaps it is the simple

pride buried deep within my chest. 

avoiding the moment of embarrassment. 

because what is more humiliating than confidently striding up to a door,

self-assuredly pulling the handle--

only to find it locked?

all your vanity and self-possession

left with you

abruptly outside

in the cold. 

Restin' Peace

it's going to take more time to let this die

it was and is inevitable--

though you find it unnecessary--

it makes sense. 

you, older, more world-wise,

less soft. 

me, young, inexperienced (almost wholly)

you kissed me in your basement

urgently, as if it was

in spite of yourself 

(I taste the spite)

I was just happy to be kissed--

to feel pretty again (after a long draught of insecurity)
 

and there it was. 

irreversible. 

(not that to you it amounted to enough to necessitate being reversible

...until perhaps the side effects showed up)

this perfect imbalance 

you, so strongly deemphasizing 

(it meant nothing more than animal instinct)

me, almost comically overemphasizing

(it meant too much, emotions stampeding in)

nothing can exist so lopsided. 

in forty years, who knows who I'll have kissed

whose lips will have grazed and graced mine--

this clash of your regrettable momentary indisgression 

and my uncalled for reverence will be

less than a memory

if anything at all. 

but as it stands,

you are boy number three

and hold the title of

Most Recently Kissed. 

I don't ask a lot. 

just a quiet understanding

patience with the grieving process.
and maybe some respect for the dead.

drivers hymn

the road, just visible as an idea

or the phantom of an idea--

more of a suggestion of a road

illuminated by two feeble headlights--

stretches unknowingly, unforeseeably on. 

the truck ahead follows its own path,

leaving in its wake a cigarette

bouncing off the pavement; 

a swirling trail of sparks dancing urgently

on the road-- then passed. 

fireflies sparkle in the cornfields; earthly

stargazing made possible-- 

an old barn stands patiently among the constellations. 

the drone of the engine is the only sound

save the occasional gust of wind 

rolling through the corn, across fields

around houses, buffeting the car-- 

a gentle reminder to keep alert--

those unspoken, invisible ditches aren't 

too far or too hard to find. 

the drive itself uneventful, monotonous

yet peaceful. even comforting. 

those twinkling fireflies and old 

diesel trucks rattling past 

allow an understanding of the 

timelessness of the road; 

of roads traveled long before. 

roads yet to be traveled. 

the destination not important

as much as the getting there--

this endless temporary journey

down a darkened road only visible to

those with its memory still silhouetted

in their tired eyes. 

The Irresistible Urge to Look Up

one solitary Chinese lantern,
burning boldly red
floats upward, piercing the soft sky.

below, single parents with crying children,
old friends with a game of bridge on a shabby folding table,
teenagers shyly holding hands,
loud families with lawn chairs, bags of chips, cans of soda,

look up.

the crowd below, moments before filled with
noise and confusion
                                   
                                silences

as the lantern
so bright against the pale blue sky
quietly ascends.

the reason for this gathering of people,
this mishmash of old young middle aged
friends strangers acquaintances exes families

is another spectacle to be witnessed in the sky.

a patriotic assembly held
to evoke feelings of brotherhood and beauty
as we all look up             up            up
necks craned, heads back
our eyes blurring with forgot-to-blink tears, remembering tears, proud tears
inexplicable tears

as this all-encompassing, irresistible urge to look up
overtakes us

and
for a moment
the thousands of tiny distinctions we
make between ourselves and everyone else
are themselves blurred
and we become, not through some sense of pride
or patriotism, but simply through this upward gaze

united