so this is
heartbreak.
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so this is
heartbreak.
another canadian sought for molestation in thailand.
are we taking notice now because the victims
are boys?
i'm a little lonely,
but the funny thing about loneliness
is that we wouldn't know what to do
with ourselves
without it.
i left a friend choking in the ocean.
i knew that if i stayed and helped him
it's likely we both would have drowned,
so i swam to shore.
i knew that if i stayed on the shore
he would have continued sputtering,
crying out, waving his hands,
becoming irate because i wasn't
coming to help him.
the only way to save him was for he
to save himself, to swim for shore with
every ounce of persistent rage he had left.
so i turned my back and headed for
the trees.
i left hoping he would swim, knowing that
certainty was a luxury i couldn't have.
it's amazing how easily you let those
i'm sorries fall from your pockets.
i always thought it was because you were
better at that than i was.
come down seraph
and kiss these dirty lips
clean
and how is your heart?
i really should have asked.
i saw you only briefly and immediately
turned away;
it was like being stabbed in the chest.
how do you miss someone
who never really existed the way
you knew?
how do you grieve something
that never really was the way
you thought?
part of me
will always be that
awkward buck-toothed
twelve-year-old with
bad hair and a big smile
that says "love me i'm yours."
i would send you off today if it weren't raining,
give your memory a viking funeral by
burning all the letters i wrote and never sent to you.
if not for the storm approaching i would wrap these cliches in
blades of grass, set them aflame on a driftwood pyre and
set them out to sea.
but the clouds advancing are more ominous than the thought
of cradling you the way i do--
held in both hands away from my body like a stillborn bird--
for one more day;
rain threatens to cleanse me of these letters before i reach shore,
revoking that moment of peace i seek when the last of
my burnt offering sinks below the ocean's surface.
keep it together
beames.
i guess what you learn when you grow up is that
there is no shame in not being able to keep it all together
all the time...
and that we never really grow up.
some days are made for rainbows
those reassuring specters
colour coming through shadow and cloud
i guess it's the surprise i'm still grappling with,
the surprise at how much sadness there is;
not that this should come as such a shock.
for weeks now i've wanted someone to take a picture of me,
maybe to prove to myself that i'm real,
to capture in that instant the me that exists now and will likely not exist
this time next week, next month, next year...
but i don't want to know the picture is being taken.
i want someone to freeze me unposed so i can hold the picture up as a mirror
and see myself as i never can.
i want someone to freeze me unposed so i can hold the picture up as a flag
and say "see me."
the irreconcilable problem we will forever face is that our eyes
point outward.
This page contains all entries posted to Nice Work If You Can Get It in November 2007. They are listed from oldest to newest.
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