Little Black Bastard

Nine at night
Everyone is in bed
You might say that things here
Are wrapping up

I am here
In dark jockey shorts
Lit up by the light
Of my laptop
And there too
Is a Little
Black
Fly

It’s just me
And the fly

And I can’t see anything
Except for the screen,
My chest,
My fingers
And occasionally
The wandering fly

Sometimes
I feel it walking cautiously
On my back
While I -
Here with you and
Anyone else who
Won’t read this,
Consider staying up
All night long

Forgetting for a moment
The need of waking early
In the morning
And acting the part
And being the person
And living the life
And saying the words

But then
I feel that little
Black
Bastard
Crawling along
My fuzzy leg hair
And the dream is gone

So here
In the nearly naked
Nine o’clock hour
I’ll close the lid to
My laptop
Walk blind to my
Waiting bed
And hope to god
That over the course of
My night
That the
Little
Black
Bastard
Don’t crawl
Into my
Mouth

Coming-To

And what I
Really want to do
Is find it
All
Out

How the brief walks at
5:30 in sub fifty temperatures
Inspire a crisp
Brittle
Subservience within me

And how they all look at me!
Ever so silent they do!
Steady as the years pass
To break down any wall
I have ever constructed
Pushing me down to
My hands and knees
Demanding eighty years
Of respect
And dignity
All of this
Between spoonfuls
Of potatoes

And why I can’t seem
To not notice the guilt
The unwanted letdown
Acting out on pre-grets
Where you know that
Although it now seems manageable
It will hurt more later
It always does

She was so excited
To see her daughter that day
The smile was there for her
To put on
And she wore it proud
And I wondered if I will
Seek such moments
Before the limits set in
And it becomes difficult
To say hello
Or to hold a hand
Or to sit quietly in the living room
And talk about kids
And about how
I too
Was once a kid

When the smile is big enough
Wrinkles appear
Even in the cold of the morning
When every exhale looks like
White smoke
They still form
But what doesn’t?

And what of my mornings of
Coffee and silence?
And the large coffee cups
Full and steaming
With curiosity
Marking my breath with
That of an old man
Who never brushes
And has dry lips

Every morning the
Light on my phone
Blinks orange
There are things waiting
For me such as
Messages
Reminders
Missed calls and
To do lists

Oh how-
How have my dark mornings -
My quiet, cereal filled mornings
Come to these things?

Reminders?
Cold walks to work?
Watching others cry for others?

There has been a subtle
Pain in my lower back now
For many,
Many
Weeks

It’s there when I sit
There when I walk
There when I drive

It’s there when I shower in
Hot water

It’s even there when I
Lay quietly in bed
I suppose that when the answers come
To the many invisible worries
That I so secretly fear
That my back may just
Feel better

That would be
Just
Great

A Possible Explination

The cupboard
The lazy susan
The dirty fridge
The sad feezer
They were all incomplete
That is how our cupboards
Can be explained

Their
Not empty
No -
Because there are
Canned beans
And bottles of
Pancake syrup
And frozen peas
And un-ground coffee beans

But there never seems
To be enough of
Any one thing
To put together something
Complete

For instance
Days have passed without
Peanut butter

I eat a lot of PB&J
So this is obviously a
Bad arrangement

Today
While at the store
We bought some burger
To make tater-tot casserole
But when we got home
We realized that we were out
Of tater-tots

The menacing thumb that we’re under
Just gets bigger and bigger

Jen decided to drink her dinner
So that was taken care of

I too decided to drink mine
Despite the gut-wrenching
Stomach-turning
Pains that
Echoed deep from within

All Draven does is munch
So that was that

But Jo had to eat
So I rummaged
And reopened the same cupboards
That not fifteen seconds ago
I had just perused
And wouldn’t ya know it
There still wasn’t anything of
Value in them

Just incomplete items like
Jelly and soy sauce
Or salt and chicken broth

But alas!
There were tuna cans up there!

And I pulled them down
To make a sandwich
Knowing that Jo loves
Tuna

Felt pretty good about myself
I thought
Ya know – in spite of it all
I found something up there to
Eat!

I SURE SHOWED THEM!

So I turned to the fridge
And opened it up to pull the
Mayo from the door

Out of curiosity
I checked the ‘best by’ date
Since I can’t remember the
Last time I ate a tuna sandwich

And whaddya know?
The damn bottle is expired!

It’s expired now that
I have buttered pieces
Of bread on the counter
And a pan on the stove
Heating up

I just shook my head
And laughed out of my nose

That is my life right now

My broke ass can’t feed an eleven year old

Yep
Watch me as a stranger from
A distance
And think that the car I drive
Means that I have money

And watch me throw my leg
Over a sportbike
And think that I have a
Whole lotta money

Watch me run down the sidewalk
Watch me run often
In the evening
During the day
In the morning
At night
And think that
I have more time than I know
What to do with

My broke ass can’t feed an eleven year old

Yeah
I fed him
He ate
Actually
He made out pretty good

They always do

But if you look close
Which is actually impossible
Because of principalities involved -
If I lifted my shirt
You could see small veins
Running down the edges of
My hips
And if you pushed on them hard enough
You could feel them beat with
My wondrous heart beat

Go ahead
Push on them
There are many to choose from

Feel my pulse

And all the sandwiches
The negative exponents
The six minute mile
The clutch
The thirty five degree ride
The hydrogen bonding
The problem solving section
Of your drops papers
The sparkling bubbles of my
Gin and tonics
The evening rain
The alarm clock going off
The final tab
The smell of coffee at five in the morning

Feel it all pulse
In my vein as
You
With your hands
Wrapped around my
Bony waist
Let each finger rest
On my stomach

And feel me warm
My pulse -
Steadily beat
Wondering what to do
And how to put together
Something complete
From our
Sparing
Cupboards

I just can’t bring myself
To eat another bowl
Of cereal

Quiet

It was a cool place
Where there was little light
And the music they played
Was deep from the eighties
And nineties

The bar had a ten foot screen
And it was by the entrance
Where you had to walk in front of
To order your drink

I ordered a Long Island

Tim wasn’t yet there
I watched the dealers deal
Their cards
No clue what was happening
I never was into cards

A great deal of time had passed
Since I had last talked to Shawn
In fact
Last time we saw each other
Was a year ago
November 18
2007

Seems like just the other day
I walked off that flight
To DC\INTL
And see him standing tall
Taller than I remember him
Waiting to greet me and my
Small carry on
So we could catch up on
Ten years of hiatus

So while I waited for Tim
I called Shawn
Told him how much time had robbed of us
And how sad I was
That I had not personally connected with him
It was all confided within a voicemail

Tim shows up
And I order another Long Island
By now, I notice a young woman
Approach me
She used to frequent Starbucks
Where I used to work
Her hair was long and curly
It was big fuzzy mess

She stopped at Tim and I
And I asked her how many times
She would pass without saying hello

She said
I wondered if that was my starbucks guy!
And I said
How many bald Mexicans do you pass with
Spikes in their lips?
She agreed
She wanted to know what I was drinking
So that she could buy me another drink
I did not argue
I told her that I was drinking a Long Island
She made arrangements with the bartender
To cover my next drink

Tim and I caught up

He was dating someone new
Someone he met online
I was glad for him
He deserves happiness

I ordered another drink
We discussed life
And its softness
Its plasticity

About then I received an email
From Shawn
He got my voicemail
And at the precise time
I left it
He was reading my
Blog

The timing was perfect

I thought of him and I
Missed his family at the same time
That he read about my
Life

Strange how timing can pan out

Tim left
And I sat there at the black bar
Now sipping bloody mary’s
I finished my drink
And watched others near me
As they laughed during the
Nine o’clock hour on a Wednesday night

I covered my tab and
Walked to the car
Dug the keys out from my
Deep denim pockets and
Inserted the key
Into the ignition in the center console

It had rained since I parked
And the windshield was spotted with
Drops of rain

So I sat there

I know that tomorrow
When I show up for my
Eight o’clock Psych class
That we will cover the same shit
I just read

And while she slowly reads
From her powerpoints
I will sip hungrily from my emptying cup of coffee
Wanting to fill the morning with
My disappearing drug

I haven’t forgotten what it was like
To jog to the starting line
At 6:30 in the morning

Or what the city was like
In November

Or how loud the subway was
In afternoon hours beneath our feet
As steam rose from aluminum grates

Years passed as we lived
As we realized our identity
As we understood the
Frightening identity
Of our purpose

We often come back to the
Point
As a D.C. Al’Coda
Where we can repeat and try again

With accuracy

The parking lot smelled of
Rain and asphalt

The drive home was quiet
As are most drives home

It was the
Only quiet part of my day
As I smoothed out

Listened for the clicking of the turn signal
And shut off the car

To say goodbye to another day

And try again
Tomorrow

Sunday Morning

Waking up to sprinklers
Spitting cold water on
Green grass
French toast and coffee
Glasses folded on the table
Warm fleece pullover
Hot coffee like liquid bark

Draven stands in the living room
Mumbling words that
So far
Only he understands

He’s happy this morning

Jen is still in bed
Under the covers
I went in
Kissed her on the forehead
And cheek to say
That breakfast was ready
But she did not move

I left her alone
And threw her breakfast away

The living room ceiling fan
Spun all night long

The thought
That tomorrow marks
The beginning
Of a new quarter
A new tuition

Where my head
Will again
Be buried nose deep until
Dry eyed
Bulb-lit hours of the night
Fattening like a sponge with
Details and concepts
Syllabi and due dates

And ya know what?
My head -
Full of
Synapses and neurons
Those hard hitting workers
Said that unless things
Change
They’ll go on strike!


What to do?
What
The
What the hell should I do
About that?

The sprinklers disappear
Into their plastic
Housings

It will rain soon

What I like about the clouds
On mornings like this
Is that there aren’t
Any shadows

I can walk barefoot outside
Step lightly onto the
Sopping wet yard
And make no noise
Cast no shadows
No one piece of matter
More impressive
Than another

No one will stand in mine
And I
Won’t stand under the shadow
Of someone else

Even without my glasses
Under the blur of
Uncorrected vision
The tall
Distant trees
Slowly smear
Back
And forth

They’re bending with the breeze
Spread open from gravity
Green from water

Can I stand here forever?
Will you warm me and my
Cold toes before the leaves
Brown and die?

Before the rain comes and
Washes us all away?

Morning Commute

Drinking an Americano at
5:30 in the morning
All is quiet
The tall cup warm in my hands
Thought about a place miles from here
Where I prefer to be

Where I could meet you and
Watch the sun before it turns yellow
You know – when it’s pink
Pink like grapefruit
When last night’s clouds
Are this mornings bedsheets
And the breeze feels good
To those with lungs
And the water is calm before
Headaches can be made
And watches don’t beep
And we sit on the same seat
While sharing the morning sun

But I’m exhaling coffee beans
And the clock ticks for me
To swipe that badge
And the radiator fan
Hums at all the red lights
And about the time the clutch
Gets smooth and loses that
Clanky feel
It’s 5:55
And time to put
The kickstand down
Time to change into
Work clothes
Time to
Clock in

We should have taken
The day off

The Fat And Happy Place

They stand fat and dumb in the entrance doorway
And fart while reaching for items high on store shelves
They seem to be missing chromosomes that code for
Humanistic traits that end up as recognizable results
Of beauty or wit or sense or perceptibility
Their soft mushy skin oozing out from between their
Pants and shirt while elsewhere in the world
People die or hurt from hunger
Others hurt just looking at them ooze
They always have more than one child which leads to
The question of “is there a quota?”
Did I somehow miss mark on the American scale?
I sit at home, stomach tied, filling out an online form
To ask for help to eat
There are holes in all of my socks
I’ve been throwing them away one at a time
All of the razors have been used and are now dull
Which are painful to slide down my cheek and scalp
Cereal is the most abundant food in our cupboard
Vehicular travel is avoided due to its inherent cost
I had to use my tips to buy bath soap
The phone rings often with strangers asking for money due
And I worry that two jobs will not be enough
And it’s two jobs that keep the help from helping
It’s all the hard work that keeps us from getting help from
All the hard work
Went running last night and woke up as if tombed for centuries
With frayed muscle and rusty bones
I wear the same shirt at least three times a week
And use spare change to buy milk
The books total hundreds of dollars but the knowledge
Doesn’t ever feel as valuable as the books
I am beginning to feel tippy like an old metal top
Which moves but only in small dimes of circles
I spin round and round
Hating the trips downtown to the fat and happy place
Where people eat popcorn chicken
And buy frozen pizza
And break all the candy bars
And clog all the shitters
And drop the bags of chips and put them back only
To grab another
And clog the lines because the price didn’t
Show up as marked on the shelf
Twenty cent difference
Snot dripping from the shopping cart
Knees knocking
Holes in the soles of their flip-flops
Pink bras beneath white wife beaters
No less than two cases of soda in each cart
All I needed was a gallon of milk
And a box of pencils

Tossing And Turning

I was running down a broken road
Deep in forest hills when
I was shot from behind
I never did see his face

There was bleeding from my lower back
And I knew well enough to
Put pressure on it
My hands were slippery from the blood

I kept running

The earthquakes kept coming
Friends were showing up
Wanting to know what happened
But were unable to help

Roads on the mountain were
High on concrete pillars and
Were breaking from the quakes
I continued to bleed

There was no one to call because
All the lines were down
And no one could come get me
Because all the roads were broken

So, exhausted, I laid down under
A tall pine
By now I was bleeding hard
It was a strange moment – the second
You know that you are going to die
There were so many unfinished memories
And things that I had not yet done
I laid there waiting for him to find me
Knowing that to some - I would die loved
And yet to others - I would not die soon enough

When I woke up it was 4:02am
I arrived there clenching my right kidney
And had a strong ache in the right side
Of my lower back

I got up
Walked to the bathroom and
Closed the door
I didn’t turn the light on
And while urinating I
Reached around and grabbed my back
It hurt

Very much awake
I flushed the toilet
And in the dark walked
Carefully back to bed

Feeling lucky and upset I
Tried to find the exact spot
I was in before I woke up
And eventually drifted off
To some place I don’t care
To repeat

It’s not every day you wake up
After dying

Bloody Mary

Lately
My face has been breaking out
And there are all these bumps
And red spots
And scabs
And tender places
Because I keep getting these
Damn pimples like I’m some
Thirteen year-old!

So anyways I’m in this bar
And decide to use the bathroom
And in it there are these huge mirrors
I’m talkin the whole width of the bathroom -
From the toilets to the urinals

So I’m there
Washing my hands
And I notice this huge zit on
My eyebrow
And it’s one big ugly bitch too
And I thought
Sweet Jesus that thing’s ugly!
So with my right hand
I reached up there and
Gave it a gentle squeeze –
Just to test the waters ya know
And wouldn’t you know it
The damned thing exploded
All over that big clean mirror!

It looked like someone threw a
Cooked corn cob at it from about ten feet away!

Up until then I had never seen such an
Explosion on my person!
And I didn’t dare try to wipe it off because
You know what happens –
It smears
And doing so would’ve just made
The whole situation look worse
But I had to just stare at it for a bit

That was in my head??

So you know what I did?
I washed my hands again
Walked out of that bathroom
And down along the
Newly remodeled bar
Sat down
And switched to bloody marys

Calling In

I backed out of there
Absent of even a quick, blinkless glance
To see nothing
Or everything
Where I left a part of me
Which was once glowing
And terrified
Questioning the moments of
Chop-block decisions I made
To leave some envelopes
Dry and unopened -
As I too felt - there in the
Dim lobby

But I backed out of there

I called and said
That I wouldn’t make it
I’ve tossed that idea around
For years

At the time of the call
Even in the whirling bustle
Of keystrokes and exhaustion that
Lead up to the call
I knew
That I was running dry
There was dust appearing
In moist areas where I would go
To find my honey-sweet
Breaths

There was no way – then –
That I would warm others
Or extend the two small suns that are
Deep and focused behind
The green of my irises
To others

That is why I called

Everything
Had been compromised
Strong muscles were beginning to
Tremble from restless and unfed hours
Even my dry mouth found it hard
To stretch for even a simple smile
They would thin from my cheeks pulling
Them apart
And crack

I ran out of nice
Haven’t you ever done that?

And I found myself waiting -
Happy as a child waiting for the
Popping popcorn to finish
In the microwave -
For the moment just after
The comforter covers my ears
And my hands return
To a closed position
So that I can close my eyes
And find out once again
What it’s like to
Silently and privately
Lose it

Burger

It was perfect
Nothing was in the fridge
No meat
No burger
No sour cream
No milk

But yesterday after
Eating dinner with my sister
She sent us home with a pound
Of burger

So
Today we thought we’d better
Cook it up
And make something because
It wasn’t going to last long
Not like frozen waffles
Or canned corn

So
We cooked up the burger
And made nachos
Again

But we didn’t have any sour cream

And I love sour cream
But I can’t have milk
But I eat it anyways
But this time I couldn’t because
There was no sour cream
And there was no Cholula sauce
And the lettuce had red veins
And the tomatoes were soft
Soft like a fat mans belly
And the chips were not much help
Because we were near the bottom
Of the bag
And what chips were left
Were broken and
Small

But that didn’t stop me

I made that plate supa-fat
With lots of broken chips
And over them I poured a
Ho bunch of nacho cheese
And then came the burger
Lots of burger seasoned with
Generic taco seasoning
And some old shredded up lettuce
And I sprinkled those mushy maters
Over the pile like tasty toppings
On a perfect cake
But I put too much Tobasco sauce
On the mix
And by the time I finished the plate
There was a thin film of sweat
On my face

My lips were burning like I
Just kissed an oven burner

Then
After our meal fit for kings
I mentioned –
Gee, sure could use some dessert

And guess what?
Jen pulled out the last two
Snack packs from the cupboard
One chocolate
And one vanilla

Felt like we were back in fourth grade
Eating the best the food in the world
And to my consolation
The tear-off lid said that
It was made from real milk
Oh perfect

And I had to pee..

Which led me to appreciate the
Complexities of the human body because
No matter how much hot shit I eat
It never burns to piss -
What a godsend!

But the jalepenos –
They will be a different story
With a more dismal ending
Consisting of me
At work
At about 9:30 in the morning
Benefiting from the invention of
Thomas Crapper
While I play bubble breaker -
Make strange faces

And once again
Sweat like a bitch

House Laundry

I remember walking bright and clean
Out the front door of the house
Ready for the resistance and assailants
That the warm sunny day would heave at me

I remember shaving my scalp clean of dirt
And hair until it was smooth like cool
Still water
Tapping the razor on the edge of
The sink
The soap water dripping from my chin
All the bills were paid
Dust floating freely in the
Spotlight of sun coming in from the
Living room window

When the timer would sound
I would walk calm to kitchen and
Wrap my left hand around the
Hot french press
The palm of my right over the plunger
And slowly
Push
Shhh..
If you pushed it with just the right
Amount of pressure
You could hear the water passing
Through the wire mesh screen
Making oily molecules of
Africa and sweat and insects
And equatorial effects
Where I
There
Would then pour into my
Green coffee cup
And sit quietly on the couch
And sip
While I waited for small breezes
To pass over my hyper sensitive
Scalp

Ever heard Nine Inch Nails in 5.1?
You could hear chains dragging from
Your ten o’clock to your five
And Trent would exhale a slow
Airy whisper right in front
Of your nose
If the phone were to ring
It would’ve been for something
Good

Of course, I don’t think about this anymore
Nothing useful about conjuring
Dusty memories that
Cannot be cleaned

No one remembers the way
Things sounded quiet like I remembered them

If I at all put any of it away
Or in my pocket
To pull out and enjoy later
Like a youngster might store gum
Soft and sticky in its wrapper
Than it was washed away
And dried with heat

With the rest of my dirty laundry

Cheating

You know why I am here. I have come to you again in a time of need and I will use you. I am selfish like this. There is no other way for this to happen and you know this. Our relationship is purely physical. You have no control over this. I do my best to take care of you. I give you whatever you need. You always look good. People look at you and immediately want you but you are mine. There is a subtle pleasure in this envy that others have for you. I’ll openly admit this. I know I’m not the only one who wants you, I’ve been told that before. I can see it in their faces. They are taken by your shape, your smooth curving body, your possibility, and by what you can do. They want to touch you but know that they will never give you what I can give. You will never look as good with others as you do with me. I make you look better in ways that – on your own – could not be possible. Be assured that when we are together people notice. Strangers have stopped what they are doing to gaze and wave. Kids have pointed and smiled. And sometimes I dream of myself as a bystander, admiring us. We can’t be missed. This is the kind of attention that only I can give you. But there are others in my life. In the beginning this was instantly clarified. Had you disagreed it wouldn’t have mattered. From the moment I saw you I had to have you and I knew that I would. I always get what I want. I don’t feel bad about using you. Often, after we part you are alone while I, still distracted by us and what we did, touch someone else and like it. It didn’t use to be this way. Until you I never considered such a double life and for some time afterwards I tried to discern weather you were a materialistic possession or merely a physical pleasure. I soon realized that you are both. You are an addictive feeling that only others with similar relationships could ever understand. My only greater need is finding more time for us. Now – if I could remember where I put your keys and my helmet.

Clippings

I was standing in the bathroom
Doing what all aging guys do
But don’t care to admit.
Standing in front of the mirror
A nose length from my reflection,
Chin held high looking for those errant
Nose hairs that are unspeakably
Long and make my nose itch
When I smile.
Nothing pisses me off quite like
The need to sneeze from
Invisible nose contaminants
When the door slowly opened -
It was Jen.
And just as the
Door began to open she asked
“Are you poopin?”
“No I’m not.”
By then she was already laughing
With her mouth closed.
She said, “You’d better come here – I’ve got
Something to show you.”
She started to back out of the bathroom.
“I need you to fix something.”
So I leaned back and away from the mirror
And could see her shoulders shaking
From the humor of whatever she was
Talking about.
“What did you do?”
“Just come here.”
So I followed her down the hall
And into the garage.
By then I was pretty curious about
What the hell she broke.
“What the hell did you do?”
By now she was laughing harder.
She walked over to the lawnmower
And by then I already knew what happened.
“Did you hit the access box again dammit?”
I was beginning to feel bad for the mower.
“Well I thought I lifted it high enough and
I was just trying to mow the edges around it!”
So she grabs the handle
And tips it over.
“Oh shit!”
Ever seen a mower blade?
They’re straight with semi-coils at the end -
Coiled like licorice.
Well not ours!
Ours looks like the letter L!
“Can you fix it?”
“Uhh – no, we’ll need a new one
I can’t fix that damned thing!”
She sat the lawnmower back down
And walked back into the house.
Later on, after coming back home
From a trip to town I noticed
That our yard had one pass
Cut into one edge of the yard
From the mower as if someone
Started and then shortly changed
Their mind and just stopped.
I laughed out loud thinking about her
Mowing over the access box again.
The poor thing has holes all over it
From our mower.
This is the third time she’s hit it.

I walked back into the house
And laid down in bed.
Scratched my ass,
And closed my eyes.

Never did find that damned nose hair.

In Closing

If I was ever weak enough to need you
But silent enough to prevent appreciation,
If I looked at you
While you peered down into my pupils
And didn’t move an inch
Not even a twitch
While you asked me to respond
To your touch,
If I wet myself on a homemade blanket
And was unable to help you move me,
Or if I yelled at you with juxtaposed consonants
That made it seem as if I was in pain although
Nothing I mouthed made sense and
Nothing you did seemed to help,
Or if I fell, head first to the cold hard floor
And damaged my smile and my eyelids
And my white teeth and the only
Remains of a reasonable posture,
If I hit you and called you a bigot
Breaking all the rules we ever built
And all the secrets we ever shared,
If my hands shook so violently that I
Couldn’t hold a soupspoon to my lips
And it took you to feed me runny soup
And cold orange juice,
If I kept you up at night with coughing
And moaning and the constant clinging
Of mucous that was necessary to clean
From the tip of my chin where you
Stopped kissing me,
If I began to smell of feces and urine
And my skin color was no longer a compliment
To my suffering and disassembling qualities,
If bags were required to manage my internal
Fluids and I could no longer control things
That were only unmanageable as a young child,
If you had to remind me what your name was
And why you were taking the covers off my bed every
Time you entered the room,
If I never again remembered who you were,
If you had to tell me who’s pictures were hanging
On my walls and who was in them and why
They were in my room,
If you talked to me at night
While the oxygen pump was humming
Telling me how you will never forget that year
In Vegas when we married and how scared you were
And how you are scared again except now
You don’t want me to go,
If you had to call the family and warn them
Of my reduced state and recommend that they
Visit within the next 24 hours if they want to see me again,
If you had to make the funeral arrangements
And pick my last shirt and pair of pants and the
Pictures for the display board and the song
For my procession,
If you were able to stay strong for the service
And walk tall to the podium and tell stories
About us and our many smiles and struggles without
Showing a tear, or weakening your tone,
If you had to go back home to an empty house
Where I could never again hog the bed
And touch your hands and laugh out loud,
If you had to pack my belongings into corrugated boxes
Where you had to place my things to help you
Move on with life,
If you thought about me exactly one year later
And sat quietly at the dinner table and set a
Placemat where I sat
And cried,
If you moved on with your life and found someone else
To love,
If over time you found somewhere to put me so
The trembling would stop
And the nostalgia was welcome,
Then I owe you.

And I always will.