What I Hold On To (late August 2007)

Bellow in the bathroom

A drunken stagger

A whistling piss

Topsy-turvy

As she sits outside

At bar, with friend

I’m far, at end

A noose of booze

The blues of used

And I read the text

From Gina, and frown

Look in mirror

And sigh, at face

I lie, about face

Megan looks sweet

An angel from distance

Her smile as bright

As her Scottish skin’s white

She has all the holiness

I don’t, I need

Gina, I bleed

This Megan looks

Tastes and sounds better

But I want down

I like to drown

I hate going up

‘Cause I have to come down

But here, walking

I steer, talking

Get to Megan’s face

Sigh, at beauty

Lie, at beauty

Inner cry, at beauty

Get deep in her eyes

Tell her what mouth hides

Kiss her and give

My soul through tongue

That tears her teeth

And collides with spit

I can’t quit

I try

But then sigh and lie

Cry, at face

Where my born beauty is

When I fell from grace

So long ago

When Sarah was girl at bar

And there was no cell phones

So there were no others

Only her

And I figure

As I catch my eyes

In Megan’s stare

That it’s not Gina

I need, want or long for

It’s my old days

And nights

When Sarah was in arms

And Sarah in sights:

     Our apartment on hill

     Our jogs through Tibbets

     Our saunters through Bronxville

     Our talks in Mazda

     Our all-day sex Sundays

          Our ending in snow-sleet

          Her toss out to cold street

          Her throw back of ring

          My slut months in Village

          My suicide night missions

                    My move up to Danbury

                    Her ransack of Yonkers

                    My lock up and rehab

                    Her move back to Midwest

                    My meet up with Drew

          My summer in mountain

          My spiritual mesa

          My last night with Dory

          Her letter that massaged

          Our spirits we gave

     Our Thanksgiving weekend

     Our long night at diner

     Our shared straw in shake

     Our lost day in city

     Our night on the ledge

Strolling with Megan

Losing my senses

Rolling along scenes

Streets, paths and tracks

Gina doesn’t live life

She breathes death

Megan breeds breath

And so it’s she I kiss

She resuscitates the boy

That was Sarah’s man

When no blood was on hands

And no scars on heart

But that’s a boy dead

Inside my slumping body

My fractured soul

My bruised psyche

That takes Megan’s hand

Feels Gina’s vibrations

Longs for Sarah’s eyes.