—CHASE AWAY MY HEART AND HEARTACHE

 

 

 

…Sorry, but this day started out especially cranky and never bothered to improve itself.

 

…While it’s always well-intended, sometimes the last thing you want to hear is, “Hang in there.”

 

…Lately what I wish most is that I knew where I was going.

 

…Waking up angry has to be the ruin of many a good man.

 

…“Patience, Grasshopper.”

 

…I know this lake has no appendages, but some mornings it very much feels like the water is flipping me off.

 

…It would probably be an awful world if we all said what we really think about other people.

 

…Sometimes the little victories are the biggest, and I could use a few of them about now.

 

…People get desperate, I understand that, but I still don’t think you should ever give ultimatums.

 

…I know he’s really messed up, surrounded by bad handlers, but I’m still in Kayne’s corner.

 

…“So, I think it’s time for us to have a toast…”

 

…I think I’m finally appreciating the value of sleep.

 

…What’s great is you have every right to be a dick, and yet I also have every right to think of you as one.

 

…Working through your shit on your own is probably not ideal.

 

…I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this movie before.

 

…‘Cause I really wanna know, will anybody ever love me?

 

…It’s pretty amazing, if not also alarming, how a certain song can strike you when you’re entirely open to hearing it.

 

…Misery supposedly loves company, but whenever I’m miserable I don’t want to be around anyone.

 

…It’s pretty hard not to love squirrels. They’re like fluffy scarves that move on their own volition. 

 

…I think Sinead was right after all—the Catholic church just needs to go away forever.  

 

…Who gets presented with a cane and thinks, Yay! Just what I’ve been wanting!

 

…I’m not very good at being angry. My mom, my dad—they were pro’s though.

 

…It’s “Dane Weekend,” so lots of deep talks.

 

…I made it two steps out of the shower before throwing up in the sink this morning. I must have perpetual morning sickness. Good grief. But maybe I’ll give myself grandchildren.

 

…“Can a brother get paid?” is a pretty great text to receive or send. Just sayin’.

 

…I can’t figure out how something can come up or out of you if you’ve put nothing in your body.

 

….When you read something like this, it’s hard to proud to be an American: Alabama is planning to use nitrogen gas to put condemned prisoners to death. The first execution will amount to a human experiment, because neither Alabama nor any other state has ever tried to kill people this way.

Late last month, prison guards distributed the state’s new execution protocol to prisoners in solitary confinement on Alabama’s death row. One hundred and sixty men and five women await execution in Alabama. They would be secured to a gurney, their nose and mouth would be covered by a mask, and nitrogen would be pumped into their lungs until they suffocate.

Alabama is seeking to conduct the first such experiment on Kenneth Eugene Smith, who already survived a botched execution. Last November, Mr. Smith spent hours strapped to a lethal-injection gurney as the execution team needled around in several locations to insert two intravenous lines without success, before calling off the execution. It is hard to imagine a more ghastly ordeal than being marched back a second time to face the executioner and a new method of execution that has the possibility of unknown agony after decades in prison awaiting death.

 …Seems like a good time for a walk. Be right back…

 

 …Chase away my heart and heartache

Run me over, throw me over, cast me out
Find a river running to the west wind
Just above the shoreline you will see a cloud
Tie me to a tiny wooden raft
Burn my body, point me to the undertow
Push me off into the void at last
Watch me drift and watch me struggle, let me go

–AND TONIGHT, EVERY SINGLE STAR IS SHINING, THE POWER LINES ALL SIZZLE AND BUZZ

 

 

 

Enigmas, Atrocities and Miracles

 

They clung to obscurity the way all long-lasting lovers do, reliability being a key endorphin. 

After so many years, their bones knew each other like twins engaged in backseat telepathy. The man’s frame was now bent into a question mark and to straighten into the shape of an exclamation mark meant considerable and sustained pain.

But that was love for you, or something like it.

She spent a great deal of time dancing with herself, a marvelous hobby for someone of her age and he did not begrudge her merriment and dexterity. Often, in fact, he eavesdropped, wondering to himself, Who is this woman really? and, However did I end up here?

But wasn’t life stuffed with enigmas and mysteries?

The only thing they knew with certainty was that one of them would die first, though they never discussed this looming fact aloud. Death, after all, was to them like bodily functions performed in the bathroom—best left unnoted and undescribed.

Their dog, cuter than Shirley Temple had ever been at her apex, had died years ago, and so now they spent a fair amount of time petting plush toy monkeys and other furry beings. Loneliness could often be a tough beast to shake.

        They both believed in miracles despite all the atrocities occurring daily throughout the planet, and in the end, a miracle is what they received. While she suffered a fatal stroke, his fright brought on a heart attack, and like a bedroom door shut for the final time, the pair passed together, clutched in each other’s’ arms, from this world to that one.     

—I’M SO GIFTED AT FINDING WHAT I DON’T LIKE THE MOST

 

 

It’s another stroll/Monday/Sunday/next day in Heaven, clouds split like corn silk combed into two perfect rows. Moses is out there on his boat again, rowing aimlessly, expectant about a proper parting, sea or see, and I can’t remember shit. 

But I’m alive, man, and the sun’s posing for magazines, chest-forward, bulky and built, so how bad could today possibly be?

I’ll tell you tomorrow.

—IT’S HARD FOR YOU, I KNOW, TO ACT LIKE YOU’RE NOT GIVING UP

 

 

It’s the wrong time of day or night to be writing, listening to Don’t Send Me Away, syringe by the ready, and I’ve got a full tank of something, while the muffler smells like Schlitz and I’m remembering things no one should ever recall, and the snare and cadence are doing their crafty work, and it’s late enough to be morning somewhere, all of those broken halos glittering like a beer glass above the trees, spelling out code I can’t comprehend, the ragged lessons of my life.

 —THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO TURN ME AWAY

 

 

 

I (Still) Love Lucy

 

 

You must have been 

dying

long before it was obvious

Today I walk again 

past those goldfinch 

stains imbedded 

in the carpet 

tattoos from your 

frothy vomit 

and it’s impossible 

to shake off 

the exhaust and dread

I should have known

and you should have 

bit my leg

Goddamn you

One of us should have 

done something differently 

while we still had the chance

—THERE IS ALWAYS SOMETHING THERE TO REMIND ME

 

 

A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8-year-olds, 'What does love mean?'

 

'When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore... 

So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. 

That's love.' Rebecca - age 8

 

'When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.' Billy - age 4

 

'Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.' Karl - age 5

 

'Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.' Chrissy - age 6

 

'Love is what makes you smile when you're tired.' Terri - age 4

 

'Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.' Danny - age 8

 

'Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and just listen.' 

Bobby - age 7 

 

'If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate.' Nikka - age 6 

 

'Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it every day.' Noelle - age 7

 

'Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.' Tommy - age 6

 

'During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore.' Cindy - age 8

 

'My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.' Clare - age 6

 

'Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.' Elaine - age 5

 

'Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford.' Chris - age 7

 

'Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.' Mary Ann - age 4

 

'I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.' Lauren - age 4

 

'When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.' 

Karen - age 7

 

'Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross...' Mark - age 6

 

'You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot.  People forget.' Jessica - age 8

—I GOT YOUR MESSAGE

 

Pig Latin

 

 

When we weren’t talking, I fed off your voicemail like those tiny fish in the tank nibbling dead skin off tourists’ feet in Cabo. I cauterized your cadence and inflection, indexing the lethal pause between I’m not available right now and white noise.

When we weren’t talking, I spoke to the walls in Pig Latin and transcribed book covers as if they were Tarot cards or the Dead Sea Scrolls. I tried to dance in my office, but cracked a vein open on a swivel chair, blood spelling out someone’s future in crimson ligature. 

When we weren’t talking, I pulled the heads off things—cauliflower, dolls, pens—thinking I might find answers underneath, but everything just seemed silly and useless, like where we were then. 

When we weren’t talking, I bought a body bag, dug a hole and covered it with words until gibberish was the thing that finally did the trick, that filled my mouth and throat and lungs, until there was nothing left to be said or thought but (…).