from a porch, i can’t help myself

waiting

pounding veins make tense my head wondering about the deeds of the undead and feeding the parts of me kept secret aside from slips in stories entertaining you when i can’t help myself, i have to share the tales of accidental youth stabbings in a seventh grade classrooms with reading rugs, where i first learned i liked looking up skirts and reading about drug addled football players with initial names and grimaces that make a pubescent boy snarl back waiting for someone to look my way with the wrong expression. ms. p. was her name, with aqua blue cotton panties bulging with a pad a few days out of the month, i thought she knew i was looking. i didn’t get the implications, frontal lobe still developing and deciding which hand i should use while gripping half grown appendages alone in a poster dressed bedroom where all wonderings cascaded before falling asleep to the hum of cds and fm radio. “jane says, i’m goin’ away to spain”, i want to go with her, explore the pavement where foreign voices are home, where i can’t breathe ecstasy air, your dim lit streets force me to remember my way to you, it’s where we started, in stinky sand pits clutching for life through mud puddle remains of those who walked the earth without having to maintain the natural flow of carbon inhaling carbon

from a porch, plastic boats

drawing plastic boats with water color paints on paper meant for your goodbye letter

it’ll only mean we’re better

i set it on the kitchen counter, leftover dinner and half-washed dishes

letting go

of complete control

a shallow bowl, filled with forgotten goals

knowing soon, we’ll split our souls

sailing off, to separate-corner roles

falling into, shallow holes

tunnels dug, by emotions moles

we’ve lost our way

will we find it tomorrow?

worn out maps

we’ll borrow

to sail back

to still-water coves

to pictures i drew

when we knew

it was real

that boat on paper

came to life

i love you

came to life

from the porch, feeling the need to wonder

i miss you

every night

wondering why this break

seems necessary

escaping discipline

wandering eyes

undressing disguises

while truth waits underneath the prehistoric wings of a sycamore tree

posted thick and high, between red rock slot canyons, a graying sky, whispering afternoon breezes drop, absorbed in dark water ripples

carrying songs

changing sounds, voices compound

still water waits

pooled to welcome mornings chill

from a stool, i observed a stream and kept seeing the same thing

how does it end?

who really wants to know?

it’ll only destroy pathways where we push, pull, and grow

flip to the last page?

no idea why

purpose, a repeated ritual sky

what do we seek while meandering our way to a maintained middle

there is no finale, finally

no diner scenes

no loved characters dying in back alleys

no dimming of lights

saying goodbye

choppers heading east, there’s more pain waiting at home

seems hopeless

nothing to achieve

deal again

more cards up my sleeve

milestones, markers, bar mitzvah, nuts dropping, transformative moments to those who notice

those partaking

those affected

i write without guard rails

i write to tell our tales

i write to disguise us as one another

i write to separate pain in the egg where we developed and begged, to begin again

without an end

this can’t be it

i’m still here

holding onto a number

waiting in line

from a porch, the answer my friend…

your job is to ask tough questions

we’ve been taught not to answer

someone from the other side

breathing in and out cancer

cells multiplying rapidly, empathy paralyzed

perspectives dizzy when i turn my head

stay forward

horse parades

don’t spook the hatred

hoof beats pound forgotten dirt, demanding attention

it’s used up

passion poured out to disposes the drifters who were led without knowing

another path exists

home life excuses

tempting nooses

hanging tree galleries

branches bending, we’re all grafted

one seed

breaking, with the slightest breeze brought across seas, caught in wind pouring from your inquiries, we forgot how to address, critical diseases

critical, we need them

complete your task

i’ll formulate a response, they’ll never know

i tried

from my brother’s bed, breaching time zones

inhaling the last bits of pleasure

i can’t seem to remember where i placed our memories of mundane moments mixed with afternoon-lunch smiles making this whole thing worthwhile

slowly chewing sandwiches assembled by grandma’s withered hands, mayonnaise soaked white bread, slabs of brand names

what was it?

this “thing”

descriptors dance away as i work to dash and play with the only pieces that will make you stay

jagged puzzle edges, gaps reminding us we’ll never feel comfort

together

my stomach ached

after you left

regurgitate, savor the theft of agonizing daylight that awaits us

from a porch, walk by

i stepped aside to let you pass

an insecure tempo-flow

too fast, you laugh at my gait

scurried-chop steps

too slow, annoyed, making you late

wandering uneven

an insecure state, where i live

the city, a constant drone of self-doubt

my home, decorated with draining desires to be like everyone else, at ease

or so it seems

on this path from here-to-there, the intersection of opened-eyed nights and self-talk lips, replaying the tone of my voice when i said ‘really’ in surprise to your recent trip, did it drip with the disconnected insincerity i’m afraid it did?

i didn’t mean it that way

i really, meant really, an affirmation of wonder at the way you walk through life without blunder, until the thunder, then you scurry, upended ego, hiding

i emerge to dance in the rain, develop friendship with pain, the grime caught underneath squeaky shopping cart handles makes me sane, knowing i can hurt again

and again

and again

the clouds lift

and you pass by

i shuffle along, after counting to five, a self-aware fuck up, pulling my shirt, chewing sleeves, smoking endlessly, everything to repel you away so i can confirm how shitty of a companion i would be without knowledge of how to simply be, immersed in weather conversations, where you work, my god, pictures of your grandma, a dead dog

i can’t walk beside you

please

don’t look back