One Day Gone

Not rich.

Please remember
I was shy.
My pre-pubescent pleading for you to c[lose] the camera.

Overweight. Sagging.

Being exposed like that burned the good out of me.
What alternative? Remain soft and purple as ahi?
Spongey? Weepy. Headed for Heartbreak.

Grabbed the boy by arms. Made him grow his horns.
Told him what's in store. Told him angrily.
What he's going to be. 

Remember after I said something stupid I'd hold a finger-gun to my temple.

The kid who loved dinosaurs.
Big thick curls and a red mouth. All the other montessorians thought Tyrannosaurus Rex was the biggest. But Nope. Brachiosaurus.
With that portal on his head. Diplodocus.
'Cause it's funner to say and longer and leaner than
brontosaurus. More pretty in the book.

Writhing drunk.

Picked wildflowers for mom when six. Better than the 20 foot wave. Better than day me and J had four times sex. Better than game I had 3 blocks and 9 points and all those rebounds. She smiled very wide and her eyes spun like coins. Grab that moment and sell it. Sell it like the sound of stilettos over a marble floor. Like the bragging engine, the steaming tongue, the broken beer, the hard-edged shrink-wrapped pack, the arithmetic of arhythmic sober nights, the bone dancing. 


The End

6 comments about this poem Feed