Between Vintage & Old (You)
there is no barrier
between vintage and
old
I remember you
there were tears while on the toilet
and we argued with each other
about love
and I sat clutching the wall between
the floor and the shower
there was always so much
hair in the drain
you just sat there on the toilet
crying
tearing and streaking across the
walls
there was no love left inside of
you or maybe there was no life
left inside of you
or maybe there was both
and both were gone
I remember you
no barrier left between
the vintage and the old
after the wall I left for the trail
and walking along with headphone
eyes I played myself a song from
the past
I came back and you were gone
retrospect says you were probably off
with him then making what sense
you could of how you had changed
I was still on the floor then
between the floor and the ceiling
debating just how one gets off the rock
in such a fever
I remember you then
by the time we were back
neither of us were crying
there were no tears left to run away from
we sat there and said our goodbyes
on a basic
and months later through a sorrowful
minute of sex and the customs officers
both of which led me to the donut shop
and I was there alone for six months
until the call
then you left
went off on some highbrow dream
of seeing the ocean
the one we always lived around
the barrier between vintage
and old
“Last Smiles”
“Following”
“Bringing Her All Back Home”
Future
we
are
left
to
believe
that
the
best
days
are
ahead
of
us.
but
where
were
these
feelings
last
Christmas
when
I
had
to kiss
my
unborn
on
the
forehead
and
tell
them
that
the
grandmother
I
wanted
you
to meet
will no
longer
be around.
Under the comforter of doom, #2
Let us go to sleep.
Just before though there are a few steps and a cigarette to light up at the lips and as you stand there little bits of snow big flakes so you know they are not going to last very long are going to come down and just render into the sidewalks.
And the mind will feel a little tense and a little cloudy because the day has been stretched and as soon as you extinguish the smoke on the same black line on the wall you too will be stretched out.
The day has been one giant race in the mind just one giant word jumble for the emotional overall and maybe it is the cold or maybe it is the fact that the Thursday is looking a lot like a birthday but it all just seems to blindside as the giant flakes continue to form and crash into the sidewalk.
“Making Little Sense [a Stranger]”
let me begin by first taking my shoes
off. It’s been quite a long day here and
the sun seems to show no signs
of letting itself become absorbed in
the runoff.
you were correct in pointing out the
size of the life behind my eyes. I had
never actually been one to notice
anything similar to that before. it’s
like you knew the days that had
just passed, or at least how the days
that passed were played across
the board.
what is it that we look for in each
other?
we cannot all be Bruce just because
our feelings want to get in the way.
how do you think he feels when put
in a situation like that? it’s not as
though he is made out of good news
or truth or a hybrid of the two.
and now, one time, one time
or two—so desperate we move.
“Bedtime Mantra”
“Walking The Union Street Home”
“Smoker Moment”
53
