He gets up

He gets up in the night, cold—
closes the window,
takes a sip of water,
adjusts his mouth-guard and
communes with the shadows

A kindly Sherpa with a yack
leads us all the way up to our seats
What bag of tricks will the actors
(small as they seem) find to inspire
his enthusiasm and delight?

“It’s because I care so much,” he intoned
“Then maybe,” she said,
you should care a little less—
They’re no fans of yours and
they aren’t impressed”

He was injured while fighting Franco’s fascists
Doctors placed an iron plate in his head
His most pronounced mental defect
was the loss of his sense of direction,
the loss of his place on this planet

Asperity and irascibility—rough judgment
He relished that spark in her eyes
that signals uninhibited lust and delight
But one year’s truth is another year’s flop,
like some sick genius for self-sabotage

“If I leave my sight and follow you
I inevitably fuck up,” he said
He meets genuine crisis with enviable calm
but small irritations set him off—
Her eyes lost that spark and she’s gone

The night is coldly shadowed so
he closes the window, then
takes a sip of water, and
adjusts his mouth-guard, so—
He lies on his side back to sleep




-January 17, 2015-