A New Year's Resolution

I resolve to stop driving past your house,
knowing I won't knock on your door.
Not today, maybe not.
Maybe, if I see some sign of life.
A flower pot moved into the sun or an open curtain.
Anything to entice me to your door
and ask the question I don't want answered
and maybe ask forgiveness for buckling under the weight
of a burden no rational man would lift,
but a boy would raise high and carry,
and I did. 
I have to know if you know
what you cost and what you bought.
Maybe you know,
maybe you always knew,
maybe you never cared,
maybe you never thought of it,
maybe it never mattered at all.
I did not leave.
I did not run away.
I did not hide.
I just stepped outside for air,
a boxer's minute between rounds,
just to breathe deep and stand at the bell,
gloves at my chin, ready to swing and jab.
The ceiling caved in behind me 
and you were in the wreck,
buried under debris a boy could not lift. 

So I drive past your house, 
not so far out of my way,
not so much time out of my day,
and know one day you will be there.
I will stop and act as if it was just chance.
Act as if I recognize you through forty years
and wait for you to answer every unasked question.

Crazy Redhead

There she was and there I was and there we were,
but Fogelberg and Chapin wrote it first and maybe better,
old love and the ghosts of Christmas past.
Songs are more forgiving than poems.
Slow the tempo and drop the key.
The clock twists backwards and slows,
caught in a relived moment that died in the moment
and took a piece of me with it.
The poet has only words and no music,
while life is such a sad song and sadder still,
when you can't hum the tune.
There she was and there I was and there we were,
ten years vanished in the air with no idea where they went,
a sweet monument to victory over myself
and walking away from problems I could not cure,
stepping over the snare, backing out of the unsprung trap
while the Who sang, won't get caught again.
Call it selfish, call it self centered, call it self preservation,
I couldn't save us both.
I wish I could have kept you.
Why didn't you?
My brain locks in mid-spin.
I don't remember the one hundred reasons, good reasons, everyone.
My drinking, right?
Not one hundred, just one.
There she was and there I was and there we were,
ten years captured in a word.
Thrown out, dried out and tried out was what it took
to solve your problem and I had the solution all the time.
My gift to the world.
There she was and there I was and there we were,
married to different people and beautiful baby pics on a cell phone.
Once, just once, I wished another man's child was mine.
There were one hundred reasons.
I remembered them all before the morning.

Narcotic Smile

It still scrapes my soul
when I think of you.
and I swear you
made me feel better
but never good.
Living with my addiction
to your narcotic smile
and amphetamine fingers,
waking wanting you,
knowing the want in me
made me want you more.
Could I love you so much
and you not love me.
Could I tie you to me
with ropes of ash,
crumbling under our touch,
feeling your warm face against
my chest become
a scratching bug in my left lung,
wishing I had walked so much sooner.
Some days the sun burns so hot
the smallest shade is welcome.
Red splattered lava
becomes the coldest rock.
All I can do is walk
to the end of Gatsby's pier,
fall to my knees and
scream your name
to the dark water,
and cough up that
poor piece of bruised soul
that keeps you alive in me.