Salvage
Wrong Turn
When I close this door
drive out of here
Don’t stop for anything
Don’t stop for sad eyes
those eyes that look straight through
In the rear view you will see me
among the grey skies
and grey streets
the grey houses
the grey faces
Don’t turn around
Don’t open the door
Don’t open your heart
Leave slow but certain, like water down a drain
Don’t resist
Don’t regret
Don’t return
but know this street, just on the edge of places
It’s where windows disappear behind plywood boards
where emptiness swallows yesterday
and stalks tomorrow
Drive straight and don’t stop
Don’t look
Don’t breathe
until you’re out
I will sit in silence in the passenger seat
As I leave and lean back into the car
my gratitude is this advice
When I close this door
drive out of here
and don’t stop
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Undone
calmquietcolddarkstillslowstraightsleeptalkthinklistenwalkhearsmiledone
She woke from the wreckage of the night’s sleep
Sweating, tossing, limbs in motion
the mumbling and yelling
laughing
crying
night
15 minutes of peace, please, thank you. Just enough to keep her alive
Mirrors follow her around the room like a bully, compelling her glance
Shine
swollen eyes
those quivering lips
body leaning and swaying
the matted hair she’s pulling
oh, sweet tragedy of her entropy
the mercurial motion to resist the night’s sleep
shakehityellsweatflashfallfastburnwrongturnfearscreamdreamdownundone
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Phantom Limb
I sit here on the couch and think, to you
That’s what I call it when I imagine talking, to you
There are things I didn’t say, to you
Words that certainly would not make sense, to you
Too dramatic and exaggerated and silly, to you
Too quiet and weak to cross the distance, to you
Still, I have this, and would like to give it to you
I have become better without it
I have created these tricks to deal with losing it
Convinced myself that I never really wanted it
Having failed at trying not to think about it
Now I am learning at last to finally accept it
God knows that I could not have prevented it
My only hope now to make peace with it
In the end a foolish whim
chances never more than slim
eventually the willing victim
crawls until the day is dim
until the sun hangs on the rim
as you lay there tender, with him
I still feel you
Like a phantom limb
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The Place Where Nothing Means Anything
It wakes you in a strange bed
this moon, perched
among the branches, through
the window, through
the chances
Downstairs they are still talking, smoking and laughing
I love this place for reasons only I can know
The food and wine bring appetites together
a heavy blanket
I should learn to savor it, to go slowly
watching the moon
as it watches you
your lazy sleep
Let’s lie here, we three, unconsciously conscious
The static noise of the waves
they roll and fall back
crash and retreat
arguing amongst themselves
The wind shakes the oak
then relents
A quarrel, then
an understanding
Crickets taunt the still and humid evening
until it almost goes mad
Cicadas scream for attention
You look
Silence
Quiet your mind and rest
here in this place, on this slope
Anything can happen here
It does, and it will
Your heavy shallow breath
slows to a crawl
then peace, finally
in this place
where nothing means
anything