November is lonely: curtain calls, flu shots,
another man down. But Terri Stanford,
she died in February or September,
before I could become the friend she deserved.
I deserve a lifetime in the light,
summers on endless beaches,
the lake house of our dreams,
you and I by a fire, with your books,
and my studious example.
My oh my, it feels like I loved you, too.
Way too late for a summer day,
I walk up this mountain for the 100th time,
listening to foreign jazz splintering aqua-sax
in my head, all in my head.
My knees go the other way, I think to myself,
Purpose is for the divine, the young in their time,
when seasides melt and the skies explode:
hot dogs and romance.
This is why the old watch the young on remote TVs,
as they shit their hospital gowns, unable to feed but through IVs,
vaguely, the world slowly changes outside their dusty picture windows.
One more trip, one more wish,
a purpose to tie a bow around this wasted life
spent chasing other people’s dreams.
The loudest voice,
trumps the softest whisper,
in the land of sunsets, choir flowers,
and this little girl
born a defect, from the start.
I wish I loved you.
Written to “Ascension” by MAE.SUN, “Vol. 2: Into The Flow.” Review coming…
Originally published at https://carolbankswebercoggie.wordpress.com on November 13, 2019.