It hits you all of a sudden after its planted its feet squarely in the back of your mind. You can’t say you didn’t see it coming because it was seething all along. Lying in wait. And you’re filled with regret, you miss them terribly. You miss them when they were two, when they were four, when you read to her and she didn’t understand the words or the pictures but she knew her father loved them. When you used to hold his tiny hand and you walked around the block and thought of important things to say that he would never remember. You push the thoughts away because right here right now you’re trying to sort out the back half of this life and it’s impossible. Because all of it is lost, the things you could’ve done more, the moment you turned away from them too quickly, the comfort you could’ve given. And although he’s turning into a better man than you ever were, although she’s more than you ever dreamt of, you miss them. Suddenly, deeply, harshly, just before passing out from the exhaustion of another day.

He has no time for poetry, or predilection for it

The nuance, the play, that silly obsession with the color or the shape

It’s all angles and concrete for him, a direct correlation between input and output

For there are grievances to be filed and mockeries to be offended by

Injustice upon injustice placed on the mantle, forefront and center, to be admired and derided and regarded just so

He’s not a bad man, just one who has been blind sided one time too many

To see things for what they are

Did I dream this?
The sand underneath the fingernail
The sound of a wave crushed by a lazy jetty
Seagulls in the distance race the sun
And the children were beside me
They were tumbling at play
They were suddenly grown walking at the bite of the sea
And you leaned against me
And you sought my hand
And you sighed
We were ready for rest
We were ready to start it all over again

Did I dream this?
Sunlight through a quiet room, it caught you by the kitchen, by the dining room, by the bay window
You were standing, you were reading, something with your hands
And I want to say it was quiet, I want to say I heard something that mattered
But I couldn’t stop looking, I was in the sun with you
The looking and the breath, the place where your hair fell
And I can’t say it was beautiful because of the sound
I didn’t want to interrupt the silence
And fill it up with something other than what it was

Did I dream this?
The terror of time and it’s relentless pace
The impeccable minute where nothing happens
And the unforgiving progress here on the skin
The ache of a body losing yet another degree of freedom
Night comes too soon but exhaustion is never fast enough
Barrel into sleep with the thought of a memory I do not want to have

Perhaps this is my life’s work, a smattering of thoughts tossed into what I should be forgetting

I struggle with who I am.
And it’s because there is no more ‘who will I be?’
Or ‘who can I be?’
All the possibility has worn itself out, a thread I forgot to hold on to.
It was all going too fast. I was going too fast.
Careening to avoid the headlights.
Dodging and weaving to a beat whose steps I was learning. Shadowboxing for the big fight.
Only to realize now the arena is empty.
And I am tired, oh so tired.