4.04.2008

For S.M., No. 327

Somehow the music faded away
as our hands met by accident
one night on a checkered floor
and we went with it anyway, made
that reach work for awhile.
Yours had stretched.
Mine had stretched.

Without knowing the extent
we went ahead like the fools
that we still were. After a month
mine had stretched yours.

Versions of what came next vary
as the middle of a long joke always does
so I'll keep this part vague
for faux friendship's sake.
Let's agree that we grew up together
too fast, perhaps, and our hearts
couldn't take the pace.
Sometimes I wish I could explain
but the statute of limitations is up
and it's more important that
you're content now
than whether or not I sleep soundly
due to deathbed confessions.

I started writing
on myself (both fig. and lit.)
or having others do it for me.
There's one looking up at me now, my third
ever, capable of being drawn with
four strokes of the pen, and it's
lines are thin and faded in places.
My muscles have grown in my line of work.
Mine have stretched.

I didn't plan on getting the second-to-last
but who ever does, really?
It was an excuse to reconcile again
and be for you what I couldn't the first time around.
I didn't blame you for leaving early
when my turn came; it's something
I prefer to do alone anyway
and it made the beer taste better.

Someone gave me that book recently
without knowing that I'd already read it
let alone why. It was no secret that
it'd still always remind me of that
time I saw you for three hours
and three hundred dollars, no secret
that she'd never change that, so I tried
that truth thing again.
She took it well.
I did, too, after a few drunk weak-
nights in my room.
All this thought over a gift that
I helped put on your body once.
Someday you'll find a fit father for them
(send one my way) and
yours will stretch, too.

Our lives out before us--
sometimes red carpets
sometimes gauntlets--
but always ours to make
better or worse
always expanding
until that big Last Call.
Yours will stretch.
Mine will stretch.

Years have stretched.
Months have stretched.
Years will stretch
Months will stretch.
That's just how life goes I guess.
That's just how we'll grow (confess):
Apart, together.





Currently reading:
"D.B. Cooper: What Really Happened" by Max Gunther.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

it's beautiful, i love it

Anonymous said...

that last line is mine, you thief.

dave said...

at least it stuck with me, take it as a compliment.