Walking in winter.



Walking– the cold air has finally decided that it is winter

Dry and windy

I wrap myself in sadness

And breath in the sharp pain

And I stare with dry eyes

Thinking, “fuck.”
Ethan’s car. That tiny scratch by the lock
It is precious.

I do think that I am just about over cussing. At least out loud.
In my grief it seemed like an apt way to express myself…

And now after all these months, I’m ready to move on…
And so I search

Fir Drive

for memories I lost along the street

And discarded bits of laughter

To shove into the gouges in my heart

And leaning forward with my hand at my chest

And my mouth wide open in a muted scream

Forehead wrinkled and eyes wide and unfocussed

And you don’t know the prayers I have prayed

I pound my hand down on the dash…

And you don’t know that I want to hit you hard to see
And I do think “fuck” all the time
When I see kids wasting their time and my time and fucking up their lives…

“Why the fuck are you even alive…” (a thought I keep to myself.)
I smile as I pass out papers.
And of all the stupid impotent waste

How incredibly wrong this all is.

to see… what you would do?
And you don’t know that sometimes

When the world fades to sepia

And blurs into a numbed and muffled silence

Clenching and unclenching my hands

And looking to heaven

like the dog whose owner kicked him in the ribs…

With big sorry eyes
The air is cold
And so I pull my sadness tighter

He has gone on

Gone on ahead.
On back down, into ashes.

And bored… he doesn’t listen.


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