Archive for June, 2008

June 24, 2008

The Bottom

I’ve been to the bottom and back.

Sometimes I leave because they kick me out,
other times I get enough sense to leave on my own,
but mostly I can’t remember why or how I left.

Usually I have to take a cab home,
and get my car in the morning.

I’ve been to the bottom a lot
sometimes I spend days there.
I take smoke breaks outside the place
which is how I’ve met friends…good friends
though I never know when I’ll see them again.

I carved my name in the bar stool,
change has fallen out of my pockets and is still in the couch.

There is a lot of me there, at the bottom,
but I only leave pieces of me
I won’t need when it’s time
to go back up.

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June 24, 2008

Secret Life

My life is a secret,
shall I say more?

The secret is my best friend
but we have nothing else in common.

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June 24, 2008

Lightening Bugs

You can tell a true lover by the gifts they give.

When you only get them on occasions,
dutifully,
when millions of people probably got the same thing,

Love is coerced.

The true lover finds you gifts
randomly, accidentally;
the world is the gift shop
for a museum about you.

She brings them to you
in cupped hands,
like a child who has found a lightening bug.

The cuff-links you didn’t know you need,
the poet you love
who just wrote a new book,
a small notepad that fits in your pocket
because you love to write.

The occasion is always,
the reason is just because.

The gifts are the reflection of your presence
in your absence,
and you will never throw them away.

June 24, 2008

Rehab

When I heard he was in rehab,
all I could think was,
“what finally convinced him that was more than my pleas?”

He told me it was the night he finally cleaned his apartment
for the first time in six months
because a hooker was coming over.

And when she arrived at his place
she smoked crystal before she undressed
she looked around his place and said,
“honey, you need a maid.”

June 24, 2008

Past Tense

I speak of her in superlatives
that are tragically in the past tense.

When the wisdom you gain with age
illuminates only failure patterns you can’t break

When progress becomes finding flaws
that have no solutions

Faith becomes a suspicious option.

How ironic that the most sacred thing you are left with
is a spiritual investment that can only pay off when you’re dead,
and the superlatives about life
are always in the past tense.