role of my life

I’m an actor in “Life”

Myself” is the role I’m continually playing

get into character – what would a normal person do?

watch others, mimic, steal something from a TV show

new lines don’t always play, so revert back to old material

sometimes the audience is cold, I struggle for the moments

other times I’m on a roll and the people are with me

words roll easy, actions flow, laughter erupts

I feel I am truly inhabiting the role

I’m living life but it’s nothing more than show

I’m just playing a part, this isn’t really me

I don’t know who that is

but I’m getting there

one day the character will be me and I can stop lying

to you

 

password girl (part one)

my secret password

is a name – a woman

that I loved so foolishly

when I was finishing high school

 

it was so hard to let go of her

I finally did, but

my password has always been her name

so I can be sure I’ll never forget her

 

oh Password Girl

is your hair is still long?

do you still have that piercing?

are you still funny?

 

an evening at the movie house

an empty movie theatre

a palace of isolation

my own private screening

jacket lain over three seats

feet up

a cigarette

six pack of beer

 

the movie sucks

but I don’t care

it was all for me

I grow bored

leave and try a different theatre

this one isn’t empty, but almost

just as good

this movie’s not as terrible

maybe I’ll stick around to the end

 

The Jogger

I recall one day I was out walking with a lady friend. No, at the time the two of us were not romantically entwined, however the thought of dipping my feet into those enticing waters had traipsed across my mind more than once. Sadly, as many moments come and go during the dizzying course of one’s lifetime, so too do people pass through us as delicious and brief as sips of wine at a banquet. So too did this lady pass from my life after a time, leaving only memories.Continue reading “The Jogger”

take me out of the game, coach

sports fans, fanatics, armchair athletes, experts on the game
they know every player and every victory and loss
wearing their knowledge proudly like a badge on their sleeve
and they laugh at the ignorant who don’t

I pity them, the poor, pathetic souls
empty lives with no ambition, lost in youth
by injury, or decision, or just plain sloth
dreams never realized, they now ride the pine

revering those who made their dreams come true
living through their heroes
playing along inside their minds
fighting for victory while they always lose

but they do gain acceptance and comradeship
shared joy through common goals
exaltation in united moral conquest
it must be nice
but I’ve never wanted to fit in
to be part of the team
that’s why I didn’t play sports when I was a child

now as an adult, like then
I’m asked to join the game
sometimes I do
it’s fun to belong
sure
but most of the time
I cannot be bothered

old nights with young women

in bed with a younger woman
hyperactive and a bit crazy
been drinking and fucking for hours
smoked some marijuana
finding it hard to stay awake
quit, lay down to sleep

she’s kissing me again
grabbing at my limp member
trying to get it going
all in vain
down for the count
try to sleep

she won’t sleep, won’t stop trying
young girls don’t care for things like
sleep, leaving well enough alone, or
saving some for the morning
they want it all, and now
even if it’s not there

finally sleep, brief, she wakes in a frenzy
late for work, departs in a whirlwind of curses
I’m staying in bed – “the key is under the mat”
I nap, she comes home for lunch
undresses, climbs into bed with me
I’ve had time to rest, we fuck again

she lays in my arms for a bit, giggling
back to work – “the key is still under the mat”
have a shower using her soaps, her towel
look through her home, a real mess
smoke some of her weed
find a flask and drain the remnants

walk outside
suburbia, too quiet
sunglasses
find a bus stop
need a coffee

Flowers

The boy picks flowers from the edges of the long country driveway that leads from the main road where he catches his bus every morning to the house where he was born. He brings the small bouquet to the vegetable garden next to the house where his mother is pulling up carrots and dropping them into a plastic ice cream bucket. She pushes the Tilly hat up on her sweat-dappled forehead as he holds the flowers out to her. She smiles a glowing mother’s smile and takes the flowers in her green and pink gardening gloves stained with dark, fertile earth.Continue reading “Flowers”