She grants you grace—
   the self experienced
   the self remembered
   aren’t the same
He’s an error prone witness
   with a vocabulary of volatile liquids
We lose people—
   that fucking rusty door clangs shut
He works late at night
   on a bench at Waterloo station
   where the commuting crowds
   ease his loneliness
Your wayward disposition,
   your smugness
The less I think of it
   the more I see of it
I like to swim my pain away,
   just to keep moving
   No time to cry or stop
   We can cry later
The intensity of the peak
   The gravitas of the end
My experiences are strangers
   My memories sharp slivers
This never ends—
   From nowhere to nowhere
   we come, we go
   like a flash in the insect night
like the warm white breath
   of a collie in wintertime
like shadows
   on star streaked grass
I try to hear her quiescent, still voice
   She spends the night in my arms
   I don’t hear “control”
   I hear “request”
She tells me the next morning
   how she doesn’t really like to cuddle
or touch, and I think what an odd gift she just gave,
   what a strange, sad gift she gives

I won’t worry about it
   I don’t care what they think
   When it ends, it ends
   and if it ends well that’s good
If it ends badly so be it
   I still hear her voice from way in there
She thinks she can make it all ugly
   as long as it’s intense
In youth, love is all about romance
   In middle age it’s all about sex
   In old age, if you don’t feel it anymore
   you go your separate ways
Old, you’ll lose your power, respect and status
   You’ll be released to the universe
Here’s what’s left after the dear one departs
   and it’s not okay
The statistics just don’t say—
   Every path seems wrong
   every turn seems wrong, but is it?
   I never had a woman to be weak with
No, no, you don’t understand...
   I have no one left to hold
How dare I think that I should—
   her grief over him is pitiless
Our way of life stops—
   Did you know that the photographing
   of corpses was a common practice
   in late 19th and early 20th century America?
He didn’t give a damn about success,
   fame or fortune
Nothing needs to be done
   to help this tough old man
Grandma was the earthy one
   Brother H was covered in hair—
   I hear it and must sing it
   I can’t help or do a damn thing about it
He still gets their respect—
   All those star players
they remember how good he was, fantastic
   He was quick, fast and furious


-March 10, 2012-