Robots

World of drones, we all let go
of each other, of ourselves.
Your face in mine, in pantomime,
encrypted, frozen, years of lost time
…you’ll never get back.

Is this how you imagined things,
when you set out?
City streets, crossroads, seeking new faces.
Not the same, no less strange-
because everything has changed
…and you watched it slip away.

Father/Mother

Difficult seeing you now, not as you were.

Once, parading me on the riding mower,

life made simple, undaunted.

Singing out of key, the world—my back yard, spinning infinitely.

How strange to see you now. Feeling the weight of each passing hour.

Your strength governing an unappreciated job, driving me around town.

The long ride home, college kid, so scared of letting you down.

I had to raise my own children, to appreciate what I had.

Fast-forward 25 years, flashbacks and soundbites of you and dad.

Patchwork memories accumulate in story books, read aloud.

Do you know how much I love you?

If it only occurred to me.

The impermanence of all this.

I will not forget so easily.

Father stoic, mother heroic—fighting the absence of youth.

Loving their son persistently, they only way they knew.

 

Left to The Earth

I don’t care about conspiracy theories.
I just know a lot of people died.

One day lost but holding on, our consciousness blown, people glued to TV sets, wasted, petrified.
Why was I alive- alone, but watching planes fall from the sky?
The deadening roar, silenced by just a small moment in time.
Smoke billows, bodies falling from windows, children without mom,
wishing they stole an extra hug, no more goodnight kisses from dad.
Looking out the front door for parents, left to the earth- madness from people who couldn’t feel remorse,
Americans with clenched fists just left feeling mad.
My mind allowing me to care for those I’ve never met,
feeling worse for those alive who can’t forget,
wishing we could all rewind,
or just escape.

Victim Statement Editorial

Lay down, the past, underneath,
a crumbled blanket to sleep,
the sidewalk,
you pass quickly on the skyline,
things look better from a distance.
I’m on the other side, a hapless byline
in a ‘choose your own adventure’ book.
I’m watching you drift by-
no more “hello’s”,
niceties falling short, failing us,
the plight of children caught between.
They’ll be ok, kids always are, resilient, tactile,
raw emotions blanked out by playgrounds and Fruit Loops.

Somebody saw me in a crowd, alone,
Nothing even worthwhile
toddlers crowding the stage, lights and heat,
the burgeoning distance where no one can see
-a situation where every instinct let me down.
This auditorium couldn’t hold all my angst.
Angst. Just another word that = I feel sorry for myself.
How I disappointed, but never my intention.
My face blank, I see you and your paternal crutch
and mine, nowhere near here.

Thank god, at least I have a chance now.
I see your face, or faces, dependent on which mood,
weighed in, quality over quantity I guess.

Just stop glaring at me for once.
This isn’t a party for me either.
Despite how your mind grasps at straws
your painted fingernails chipped, resembling claws
and an array of scars
ripple across what’s left of my heart.
We have plenty of baggage for another trip,
let’s empty the contents into someone else’s life.

We’ll never be the same, I’m over here and you’re there
and it was never how it started, but where we left off.
This auditorium, filled with strangers,
filled with people, maybe I said “hi” to them once,
in an effort to relate.
But that’s a poor excuse
and not worth the wait.
Spanning 41 years, awkward smiles, and tears
just in private though.
I’d hate for you to see me as I am.

Troll along, who cares where you go-
the box will keep you neatly in bounds.
People Magazine, Starbucks and cashed in 401k’s.
Looks like a prison from here.
How did it end this way??
I remember.
I just got up and left.

…and me
somewhere in the back aisle,
wishing the whole place was gone.
or is it already ?
The emergency exit within a few sprints to the sidewalk.
Running away, running for my life
or just looking for the next victim.