Sunday, July 20, 2008

An Anniversary and a Celebration

I wrote this poem, with exception of a few revisions, almost exactly a year ago.



Shifting Decks



Leaving is many parts:
meeting new people
and the feeling of time lost
and “Don’t hug me for more
than ten seconds” because I’ll cry
(and in front of all these people at that)
and then also thanks so
much for that for allowing me
to spill myself onto your shoulder.

Heavy July and food on the grill
during the evening affair and then hummingbirds
at my Mom’s house
but wait, that’s skipping parts
and steps ahead and askew, but that’s leaving.

How places can be very similar
and how one of my first poems was
“When the Hummingbird’s Hum
Ceases to Hum” about death
in a sort of Keatsian manner
and how funny that is.

It's deck conversations and realizing
what months
can be
and airing jeans
on the line and snapping photos of them to get
a laugh
and cats that seem immortal.

Slow days talking
about new friends to old friends
and discovering role models
and then discovering new ones.

Poems coming together on the road..
One of them was
title “I Was Almost Crying Forty Miles Ago
and Pulled Off the Road
to Write This
Especially for Earl and Phill”
body “I
love
you.”
but we all know
that’s not a poem.

Finding connections before
departures realizing missed
opportunities
it’s casting lines out and breathing
and camping overnight somewhere strange.

Feeling joy for buying baby food
for my little nephew
and on top of that
it’s “I’ll see you again”s
that are both sincere and not.

And a stick-shift in my hand
and great smells seen
but hidden by goodbye cigarettes,
even a walk in the woods I grew up in
and even showing my dad a poem.

And it’s going to keep
happening and it’s coming true
and yes, it could be.

And if nothing else,
it’s lots of hugs and taking chances.

Kissing vulnerability on the cheek,
backing away with a little wink.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Not Quite A World Away

And not much has changed
after a week or two of
thinking I deserve this.
All of this.

And not much has changed
except so many things put
so damn close together out here
and someone's dancing
with a new face
and I'm finally walking
down the street alone
when I should
and walking away when I should.

I'll be steering away
from the sun today
and after a hard last night's
rest on the porch floor
I'll be daydreaming
into close-proximity smiles
and trying to avoid
being lured into wondering what happened.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Desculpeme?

I've missed you these weeks,
he said to me,
and I said,
yeah, we are more to ourselves
when we're free
than we might sometimes admit.

I've stopped saying cheers
in poems because it stopped
sounding special, but I've realized
you can make just about anyone
feel special by looking them
in the eye and asking about the day.

I've attempted to stop holding
friends to rigorous standards,
despite what I might have said
after a drink or two.

Tonight let's keep it simple
and not talk about
the last few months
or where we're from. Let's not
talk about late nights last week
or your theories on where I'm at.
Let's watch the mopeds spark
as they just miss garbage cans
and the neighbors come out to wonder.