here we are,
broken and unstrung.
here, are all our gory bits are laid out in OCD patchwork precision.
honesty’s vomit trickles over my chapsticked lips
as icy rain showers smash against the car’s thin roof,
they urge my confession: do i divulge the tailored, edited
version, or drop the unabridged messy bomb?
we are similar souls with similar fights,
i find only comfort in our sameness [no wariness].
we are bonded by mutual solace and care,
so effortlessly you have inched your way in:
“i’ve never told anyone this before.”
a bright red car sped past me at a busy intersection.
that same bright red car was smashed and totaled on the
side of a frozen, mountain road. the fog curled softly
around broken glass and impaled, jagged metal.
there were cops. fire trucks. sirens. curious onlookers.
but i never saw the driver.
each foamy drop drips thickly
onto frozenly rigid funeral earth:
here, we bequeath our offering to the gods.
in memoriam of our past selves,
we flick away our smoldering ashes
as we rip off scabby memories
to unveil the vividly naked truth underneath.
we are safe [at home] in this grassy circle,
no one, but the bitingly bitter winter wind
can chase away our little scrap of infiniteness.
cherry scented smoke wafts through my trembling lips
as i pick at the aged duct tape peeling on my shoe:
we are not the same old souls we were yesterday.
surrounded by our deceased elders
we plan out our tomorrows and relive fading yesterdays:
i am heavy under the weight of unabashed acceptance.
yet as i stare at the combusting embers snuffing
out the life of my shrinking cigar i realize:
i’m afraid of what is behind and ahead of me
[the unknown inky darkness].