I used to ride my bike to work
past the guys in shirt and tie combo-packs
driving their hatchbacks
into the business school
to spend 27 grand per year
for a masters in working a room
and I’d think
“I don’t know what I want to do with my life
but please don’t let that be me”.
N’er am I watched over by ought else but Gravity. Thrown to my knees in deference to reality. Carved out of stone by great glacial vacation or ash’d in the fires of this spectral rotation. I thrust up mine hands to capture the wind’s cries, for those done their duty, lain their egos to all-times. For what greater affront to mine Lord and my master, than to walk, head held high, in light of disaster? From Earth we were raised and to Earth we’ll be reborn, pressed e’er downwards ‘gainst past-lives and sandstone, to be thrust forth anew by power uncomprehending, to fall as we once fell — we are angels descending.
The forgotten photograph is a talisman of a life you remember living as one does the progress of a novel. It’s the last line you read three times to make sure you didn’t miss anything when you’re really just bracing yourself for the ending. The snap that leaves a cold prickle on the back of your neck; which pulls you upright or sends your arms above your head. A slow stretch to shatter the pause and reignite the present. A re-emergence into a room which is suddenly a lot bigger than before. As if your life had traded places with the words, and maybe opening the door will turn a page.
Granted, this wasn’t how I expected it to turn out
but I never was the psychic you were
my periscopic vision faced 180 degrees
and I stared for hours at the same old walls staring back at me
You’d think I’d have noticed the similarities
but there’s a whole universe in the grain
decades of decay and monumental promise
slow fades mark the ghosts of your old boy band posters
The house murmurs and I know your routine
kitchen floor, return, 3rd step from the top
it’s always the 3rd step from the top
the school book beats the rattle at the door
I’m momentarily too comfortable, as if I’ve seen it all before
and never looking back seems like blessed relief
but when you spend as much time looking into black-backed window panes as I do
all you see is what’s behind
There are no photographs of me as a teenager
and that’s something I sought to rectify with you
but more out of obligation than anything else
you can’t replay something which hasn’t ended
This hasn’t ended
He doesn’t like the door being open because it makes him feel vulnerable.
Ring any bells?
Most gracious of hostess
I cannot repay you
But I beg in the name
Of the god that you pray to
Don’t stand in the doorway
Don’t latch up the window
And out of your life
Like a light then I will go
Leave you to the kindness
Of one more deserving
And forget all you ever
Did know of my yearning
It was my choice to come here
My decision to haunt you
Though I knew all the pain
In the past I had gone through
Would come back to greet me
And newly discovered
Would smother the heart
Of an innocent lover
Who committed a crime
No more heinous than hoping
That out of the known
Some new fortune could still spring
And sweep her away to a life
Where the wind blows
The clouds from the sky
And the light through her windows
Where setbacks and downturns
Are steps on a staircase
That leads ever upwards
Through in-jokes and Sundays
And reaches a landing
That runs on forever
Where “how” doesn’t matter
As much as “together”
This question you posed
I thought I could answer
As I did when I once
Took the hand of a dancer
The feeling was bliss
Though the moments were fleeting
A battle of love against
Time that’s receding
Our hope ran aground
In the neck of the hour glass
And it lies perched there still
Despite all of the time passed
So as I reach out to you
And our hands cross the water
Mine are scarred by the memories
Of distance that faltered
It was wrong to engage you
Possessed of the knowing
Both the pleasure of coming
And sorrow of going
Though the former’s the one
That you’ll always remember
It’s bittersweet comfort
When we can’t be together
So I leave you alone
To the will of your nation
I know you’ll find someone
Deserved of your station
Who’ll be there when you need him
And home in the evening
With no thought that arriving
Must surely mean leaving
Though it pains me to say it
I know that it rings true
That this gift of freedom
Is the best I can give you
Do not be downhearted
Don’t feel this a failure
For the gifts that you gave
Will last me forever
The greatest crime against something you love is immersion.
It’s nice to dip your toes in, but now it’s time to bail.
You’re still my favourite.
But don’t tell anyone.
It’s nice when they look.
