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Every time I take a week off work, I tell myself I'm going to do all these wonderful, awesome things. I'll make declarations stating that I'll make those long overdue household repairs, I'll write 15 new poems and 10 new stories, I'll go see my friend I haven't seen in a year, I'll skate every day, I'll get some rest, I'll clean and repair my car, I'll create some art with my daughters, I'll watch that whole stack of videos I haven't watched, I'll read a few of those books I have stacked up in my bookcase, I'll shoot some photos, I'll volunteer at the food bank, I'll....

But the truth is, I don't do what I want to do, I do what I have to do.

I'm up at 6:30 AM every morning, I take and/or pick the girls up from school, I run errands, I do chores, I tell my friends I can't make it. I don't read, write, volunteer, or create any art with my daughters. I forget to take out the trash, I don't fix anything that is broken, I answer work calls. I smoke way too many cigarettes, I start drinking too early in the day, I tell myself that I should probably put down these bad habits, I swallow and shit out all of my fear and frustration, I lie to my wife and tell her everything is, and will be ok.

I stare at the wall and try to avoid those toxic thoughts that paint the mind black with tiny fists.

This week is no different than any other week.

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I remove another beer
from the refrigerator
as a cold, flickering
light bulb
reminds me
I have done this
all too often
and I am
burning
it out.

The mouth is
cracked,
and the contents
poured
over retained memories
and unborn thoughts,
removing the pulse
from all things
real and abstract.

I have reverently observed
this sacred ritual
on so many nights
that have abandoned
so many
relentless days
and it is here
that peace is found
and solitude embraced.

I am unmoved,
unused,
and free.

And as life outside
struggles
to simply maintain
after all the tragedies
both immense and tiny,
and another beer is removed,

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I had a fish once
who played
dead
until the day he
died.

He would float
upside down
at the top
of his bowl,
motionless,
fooling everyone
into believing
his breathing had
stopped.

My friends would visit
and witness this spectacle.

They would inform me
of my fish's passing
and I would fill them in
on his well rehearsed joke.

He could do this
in such a convincing manner,
that there were even times
I almost believed it
myself.

There have been instances
in my own life
where I
could have been
or
should have been
dead,
but I was only playing
with a fragile toughness.
An inside joke
no one was allowed
in on.

I wasn't as clever
as my fish though.
He could die
and come back
to life
on a daily
basis.

My fish had talent
and he was sure
to be remembered
and revered
on the day
of his death.

And then one day
my fish did
indeed die
and I didn't believe it.

I found him
floating upside down
in his bowl,
motionless,
and his breathing
had stopped.

He had fooled me
one last time,
and for once,
the joke
wasn't
funny.

 

 

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1.

"Look, dammit, all I am sayin' is that you should reconsider this. That's all. Just think twice, okay?"

"Ya know, we have known each other for like, forever. And yet, I am havin' trouble remembering exactly when it was that you turned into a freakin' nancyboy. When was that, do you remember? Or does your wussiness erase your memory, too?"

"Very funny. What I have been tryin' to get through to you, nitwit, is that he is not someone that you mess with, okay? He is what is known as 'a one-call guy.' With one phone call, he can ice you. Period."

"Ya know, you watch too many of those direct-to-video movies on cable. You actually believe some of that shit."

"Imma tellin' you, man, fuckin' with him will only lead to trouble. I've seen it before."

"Look, I have the story. I have the corroboration. I have the facts. I am not putting this in some desk drawer. This could really make my career, dude. And you are not goin' to scare me into keepin' it in some file folder."

"Whatever, man. Just don't say that I did not try to warn you if you wake up with two broken kneecaps. Just sayin'."

"Lookit, I gotta go and file this with my editor, okay. I'll see you later at Shorty's for a few drinks."

"Okay, man, but please, be careful."

"Yeah, I'll be real careful. See ya later."


2.

The exposé, which connected the city councilman to a prostitution ring that the district attorney had been trying to crack for over a year, ran in the next day's paper. From the minute that the paper hit the streets, and its website, the phones chirped and the email inboxes lit up. The district attorney held a press conference at 9:00 a.m., vowing to pursue the case in light of the new information. At 10:00 a.m., the councilman held his own news conference, denying all of the allegations contained in the story, and vowing to fight to clear his name of any wrongdoing. The district attorney also put a team of four detectives out to tail the reporter, and note his every movement.

The councilman left the city on a previously scheduled trip to Washington, DC to lobby for additional federal aid for the city's homeless initiative. He was filmed by a local television station boarding his flight to the nation's capital. Later, an affiliate television station in Washington interviewed him on the scandal as well as the purpose of his trip.


3.

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Today I embrace the wrinkles.

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Is it saying something about the state of my self worth to confess that I miss him? Even after a year, I still miss him? Ahhh, the sound of his voice, the rush I felt when he would come into me, his impulsive need, the heat of his urgency for some release. Is it more horrible to admit that I miss the ride? The way he could strip me down and make me feel so warm, special, and wanted…like I was the only thing that existed in that moment and in the very same instant rip me apart and leave me feeling like naked prey too diminished and pathetic to hunt.

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A ghostly kiss lingers on desperate lips. 

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