a wash

Today
the day I woke up tired
and fell back asleep to the sound of your hair dryer
and the tortoise-shell cat
the attention-whore
who chirped
and hopped onto my bedside table
to dip her head into my water glass
and i watched her
half-asleep
eyes half open
too tired to give a shit
that she licks her ass with that tongue
and you shooed her away
because the thought of kissing me
after I took a swig of that
was too much for you to bear
or you were just protecting me
from some ridiculous disease
that people die of
in their kitchens
before their cats finally eat their faces
and you brought me fresh water
but I didn't drink it
because it wasn't coffee
and I wasn't awake
when I kissed you good morning
and goodbye, have a good day
I love you
I'm not sure if the water was still fresh
when I finally drank it
I didn't think about it
until the glass was half-empty
or half-full
and then it was too late
and now it's nearly time
for the long drive home
to sit with you
and talk about all the things
that made today
a triumph
and a failure
and just another day
until you fall asleep on the couch
just as your book is getting good
and we'll crawl into bed
to do it all again tomorrow
because it's all there is
and it's good enough for now.

Come Back and Visit Sometime

you're leaving me
years after I walked away
said "I'll see you later"
and never called again.
I sent cards
tried to keep you up to date
but the feeling that I was intruding
was oppressive
and it choked
it dampened
it extinguished the knowledge that I should
and replaced with the wish that I could.
Shit. I'm stupid.
I'm sorry.
Shit.
I'll tell the others everything.
That's my take-away from this.
I'll tell them all of it
and hope the part of you that we will carry
will hear it too.
And I miss you
more than I can explain
more than I imagined.
Thank you for entrusting this pain to me
and this family to watch over.
I will not take lightly this responsibility
and I will not forget
you loved me
as a person
as a friend
and I will never not believe you
or stop loving you back.

hide and found

I see you.
I see you, and I don't know if you see me -
or if you even think about me.
I see you.
Sitting there.
Saying nothing.
And on the one hand-
I'm fine.
On the one hand I'm ready to walk away
say it is what it is
leave your decisions up to you
and go on without you.
But the other hand is heavy
and it presses against the spaces between my ribs.
It clutches and grips
twists and pinches my skin.
And it hurts
to see you
sitting there
saying nothing.

hook

The eyes of the fallen
watch me
from behind a green and white curtain
a giant wall
between those who lost them
and me
and they tell me
without telling me
that this is not my fight
this is not my war
but I should still feel guilty
should pledge my allegiance
and never expect a thank you
or compassion
because it is not my battle
and I've already lost.

heavy

another wave
another man dead
another protest
another waste of time
because we will all be back here
next week
and the week after that
when another black boy plays in the street
with a plastic toy
or buys an iced tea
asks for help
cooperates
can't breathe.

i can't breathe.

closure

out of sight.

out of my mind.

and still.

I only vaguely remember

that I am in agony.

uninvited

I stared at the pictures

full of familiar faces

faces I have known for years -

decades

and I'd grown apart 

from all of them.

Like I always did

like I always do

like I always will.

into it

it is so easy for you
child
you are so excited
and ready
and scared by what comes next
it is so easy for you.

you have been protected
and so you think
you always will be
and perhaps
you are one of the few
who will be
or who won't be
but will never need saving.
I hope you are
and I hope you aren't
because I don't want you to be boring.
I don't want you to feel half-done.

Promise me this.
Promise me
that the decisions you make
you never make out of fear,
that the life you create for yourself
is built on the things that actually matter.
I don't expect you to know what those things are yet
but they aren't necessarily what you've been told they are
except when they are
and it is up to you to know the difference.

because it is easy for you
child
it is easy
and it doesn't have to be
and you are lucky.

because it may not always be easy
child
it may be more difficult than it has to be
and you will still be lucky.

know that.

trust that.

and jump.

block

it's terrifying
the whiteness of it
the harsh
blinding
blank
that says
"you'll never be anything
until you kill me."

storm

this morning,
as the clouds gathered
and dispersed
and the rain pelted us
turned the air gray
I watched the sky move past us,
leave us standing still
running in the rain.
and I flew in it
lifted up off my seat
carried on the wind
somersaulted in the bleakness
over the hollow
hardened earth
bursting with water
and wonder
and bewilderment.
and then I was lowered down again
unceremoniously dropped into my chair
rolled down the road
and I couldn't see five feet ahead.
so I watched the water run down the windows
collect in pools
the children will play in this afternoon
splash the sides of buildings
and walkways
and lawns
with their joy
that they can manufacture
from our sadness.