[Untitled]

 We didn’t grow up together/ you lived very far away/ I saw you in the summer/ and that is when we played/ in the pool and in the chicken pen/ and I was scared of both/ you always loved animals/ since you had emus, ducks, and goats/ it seemed you grew up so fast/ since you were four years older/ I always tried to steal you away from your computer/ remember when we made a music video with that camcorder?/remember the food that nana made for dinner?/ climbing up the treehouse and eating chocolate pudding/ I had so much fun up there/ I thought that it was better/ cause you lived at Carroll Manor/ and I lived in a trailer/ remember when I wrote you letters/ and you never wrote me back/ I should have figured you had better things to do than that/ remember nana’s sewing room and all the pretty dresses/ remember how I copied you/ and how you called me Lessie/ remember dressing up for the anniversary party/ the chocolate fountain and the tango/ how our papu liked to eat mangoes/ and medjool dates and fresh tomatoes/ remember the fig tree and the goldfish/ Dads favorite fish Moby Dick/ and how it died/ the wood stove and the wood pile/ how Omar would bring it in/ the smell of smoke and burnt cinnamon bread (my fault)/ how Nana washed her hair in the sink/ the coffee and the mate we’d drink/ the time we got Maryland crabs and ate them outside/ on a newspaper blanket/ and Omar ate the eyes/ the hot jalapeños (and how I burned my own eyes!)/ the lemon tree that stayed inside/ during the winter/ with frost on the pond/ the cookies I baked that were hard as rocks/ how nana made everybody handmade socks… 

Remember Florida/ the life you dreamed/ the ugly ducks and the palm trees/ helping Mimi move from California with all her chihuahuas/ the snake that ate her dog (!)/ and Jenny’s baby (were you gone then?)/ how I broke up with my boyfriend/ and started smoking/ you must have been disappointed/ and Chrissy’s kids (did you meet Oren?)/ did you know Robert died and we buried him/ in Omar’s yard/ and Rosie passed/ it was so sad/ nana had to put her down at the vet/ the hurricane that flooded their house/ the wedding photos she was without/ eating at the Hibachi Grill/ getting high and going to Taco Bell/ how I spent the night on the bunk bed/ how I texted Miles (and felt stupid)/ how we laughed and sometimes snorted/ how we talked about (your) boys/ how I avoided you when you were homeless/ how I wouldn’t  help and never noticed/ that you were in pain/ because you carried everything on your back/ you walked a lot and got very tan/ how I gave you rides and hid my purse/ because I didn’t trust you/ which was worse: that I ignored your calls, or said no?/ knowing you had nowhere to go/ watching you shoot up in a bathroom stall/ and bailing cause i was afraid you’d get caught/ picking you up for thanksgiving dinner/ not knowing  how hard it was just to sit there/ the time my car broke down and we walked miles to dad’s place/ and he said you couldn’t stay/ and I didn’t even argue/ cause I knew that’s just the way/ it was / how I drank like a fish/ and I’ll always wish we’d did that lunch…/stingy with my money and my time/ not knowing you would die/ of course you remember because you lived it/ I won’t even bother to ask for forgiveness…

this poem could go on forever/ enough life for rhyme and rhyme for life/ but not enough for you/ in your short time/… but let’s be real: time doesn’t exist/ and love never dies/ life goes on, on the earth or in the sky/ and souls remain/ as entities or part of God/ I’m not sure which/ maybe both, I can’t decide…

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Wildlife

 Today I saw a woodpecker and its baby, while standing in the Elks field talking on the phone. The mother and baby exchanged food mouth to mouth. They both had a red tuft of hair in their head. In Bushmann Park we counted eighteen turtles in the water. They gobbled up dry cat food (don’t use wet. We tried. It sinks). “Feeding twenty cats, eighteen turtles…and a partridge in a pear tree,” John said. We used to feed a colony of cats several streets behind the Dollar General. “Old Faithful” was one of the regulars. He had a bad eye. We grew attached to an orange kitten. Mostly they got dry food, but often we brought turkey or tuna or salmon or all of the above (one time a guy on a bike rode by and called us “cat assholes”).  My neighbor Jim puts his leftovers on a tree stump for squirrels and raccoons. But the park just issued a notice not to feed stray animals. Don’t they realize we’ve got a multitude of stray cats and anybody is feeding somebody something? Exactly. John used to...
Read more

Recovery

 I didn’t write when I was actively drinking, focused on more immediate sources of pleasure. Plus, the way I drank didn’t permit introspection; noticing the flowers, commenting on the taste of beer. Anne Lamott was different, going to writing retreats with her own stash of liquor, getting drunk off her ass ( my forte as well). Anyways, I didn’t (drink in moderation) imbibe just enough to get in the writing spirit, but enough to obscure my thoughts and my handwriting to slurred letters. I liked to consume: music. It was all about the music, what song could evoke the most emotional of emotions: “Free Bird,” “The Crow Chasing the Butterfly,” “Closer to the Heart,” “More than a Feeling.” But it was feel good music too: Sugar Ray, Chicago, Rush (I like the alliteration there). I would work YouTube until I was blurry-eyed and spent, when John would take burning cigarette out of my hand and put me to bed. He bought a new speaker set, sensing my enthusiasm for loud tunes. I tried to look u...
Read more

Thanks Whatever: Spruce Creek Park

 We went for a walk in Spruce Creek Park. It’s down the road from our house, heading south towards New Smyrna Beach. We walked through the woods, over several wooden planks, to the treehouse. I prayed we didn’t see a snake! We didn’t (why do I go on these adventures?). Just the small holes of fiddler crabs. We walked up the two levels of stairs to the top (I need to stop smoking (I did not bring cigarettes with me)).  What a view (and I’m not talking about the various graffiti inscribed on the wood). Then we walked past the treehouse, down a dirt road to a worn grassy trail that leads to a picnic shelter (tightly packed with picnic tables), and farther yet, past the “END OF TRAIL” sign (says who?), where there must have been water once, according a myriad of mangrove sprouts. “Is that poop?” No, it’s just small balls of dirt that small creatures move to dig holes. We could walk no further: the non-trail ended. My back was sweaty and I yearned for a cold water. The flies were c...
Read more