Thursday, April 28, 2011

This is the end.

"They call 'em rogues. They travel fast and alone.
One hundred foot faces of God's good ocean gone wrong.
What they call love is a risk,
'Cause you will always get hit
Out of nowhere by some wave
And end up on your own.

Your tongue is a rudder.
It steers the whole ship.
Sends your words past your lips
Or keeps them safe behind your teeth.
But the wrong words will strand you.
Come off course while you sleep.
Sweep your boat out to sea
Or dashed to bits on the reef.

(This is the end.)
This story's old but it goes on and on until we disappear,
(This is the calm.)
Calm me and let me taste the salt you breathed while you were underneath,
(We are the risen.)
I am the one who haunts your dreams of mountains sunk below the sea,
(After the storm.)
I spoke the words but never gave a thought to what they all could mean,
(Rest in the sea.)
I know that this is what you want, a funeral keeps both of us apart.
(Washed up on the beach.)
You know that you are not alone, I need you like water in my lungs.
This is the end."

-Brand New

4:45 p.m. receive call from the bailiff with news of our divorce hearing date scheduled in 18 days      (that's only a little more then TWO weeks away..... ) 
4:47 momentary joy, relief, envisioning of closure
5:00 panic, numbness
5:15 dread
5:25 realization that this really is the end, this is final, this is really happening
5:30 sit in book store parking lot, call best friend, cry, question everything in the past two years, laugh a little, entertain the idea of taking it all back and giving one last ditch effort (again), decide against it 
6:00 buy a new book of poems
6:17 get dinner to-go
6:30 buy diapers, Red Bull, vodka 
6:50 buy a new canvas
7:00 eat alone at the coffee table, drink, paint, cry, watch a sappy movie 
8:30 talk on the phone, cry some more, try not to sound like a lunatic
9:00 - 1:23 a.m. paint, text, cry, sit on the floor, attempt to protect self from further heartbreak 
1:24 a.m. lay in bed, read poems, text 
3:00 a.m. Skype, giggle uncontrollably, talk, try to sleep
4:00 a.m. Skype, try to sleep, end up talking some more, try to sleep, giggle 
4:15 a.m. finally fall asleep
6:45 a.m. wake up, get dressed, feel unusually refreshed and at peace

I can do this. 

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

the custodial parent

as we fumbled in the dark reaching for one another's bodies
back in California linear atop the memory foam mattress
charted fertility cycles in the laptop next to the bed

we never saw ourselves here

sitting on the thin carpet smelling of stale smoke
in the basement apartment that you now rent
being brought to tears as we pour over the paperwork

we never could have anticipated

you signing away your rights as a father
you trusting me enough to make the big decisions in his life
the relief in my bones as you told me "I could never take him away from you"

I've never respected you more

although we are awkward and uneasy when in the same vicinity
you are making this final chapter of our story as easy on me as possible
I still worry about you, you still tell me to drive safely

Thank you for setting me free. I now see you were right all along... 
we never belonged together. 

Saturday, April 16, 2011

There is a light somewhere

Not much to write except this simple line: 

Things are looking up

The Laughing Heart
by Charles Bukowski

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.