John Muir

In the darkness
while her eyes are dancing in and out of focus
because we are too close
its too dark

And I can't concentrate
On the here and now
the moment

because I'm already weeks ahead
a time traveler,
prophet
to a heart that I can't understand
except in visions

dealing exclusively in disappointment

I can already see the end
that long tube of time
with a pinpoint of light

but I know what's there already
and it's not here
it's not now

So while in immediacy
it feels right to be
I have my doubts

We could be so perfect for each other
it could be so serendipitous that we ever crossed paths
on the lonely road of life
But this isn't my stop

And so while I brushed the hair out of her eyes
and wanted to feel her so much closer
I wonder if she saw the sadness creep across my face

And it hurts to feel it
which is why more now than ever I must go

I am John Muir but you are not my Yosemite
I am Columbus but you are not the East
I am Abraham but you are not my Canaan
no
I'm still so very restless outside
the promised land

It's so sad to say
That so far having someone hurts more than not

Fat Jim Morrison and the LSD freakout

We
walked around the
streets

You
had to go home
eventually

But we heard music

And a tiny little clothing store
with a backyard
where
you'd never expect it

A band of misfits playing covers of 60's
and 70's songs
to couples who were our age
in those same era's

You
stood in front of me
and smiled and
listened

in the red glow
of a string of lights along the fence

I think in that moment I smiled
and meant it

meant it more
than a hundred other smiles
i've ever given

I'll act like it didn't happen

"Sure I can wait, it's just smores"
You know,
it seems like a trap
A familiar one
A beautifully familiar one

One that comes on bright and warm like the spring
With a comparable level of renewal

I can't even look at the screen when she's complimenting me
I just smile and stare at my hands on the keyboard

It'll be hard to wipe that smirk off my face
It's also hard for me not to sabotage myself

I want to ask why
why now
why me
why her

but that's not how these things develop I guess

The beach seems like a fine place for a meeting
Those waves erase the shore and all the footprints on them
I'm just having trouble convincing myself
to jump in

I want to be able to dry off quickly
should conditions suddenly change
so I could act like it didn't happen

A debate with myself (whether or not to show my angry side)

An old post I never posted from a few months ago and titled "revise this". I never did.

Regret is not a strong word
but a necessary one
for late nights of pure weakness
coming back to remind you with their ugly heads

Like the pigs
become our enemy
Love in the time of Swine Flu is a tricky proposition

Keep your distance and draw near
never works
Rolling in the mire is so much more fun
Save for the disgusting feeling afterward

Hysteria and panic of pandemic proportions
Yet, the crickets outside know nothing of these things
How many more will suffer
before the bugs will quit their chirping?

We are the pigs wallowing through our own filth
but the rest of the natural world lives on
We curse and blame and point
for not
The animals sing,
the sky sings
The heavens themselves open up their throats
for a trumpet of a new day
Every single dawn without fail
And we spit in each other's faces
without fail

Sometimes I wish I had someone to snap me out
Wake me up, please
I haven't met the best one yet

These things I do know

Politics will let you down
Politicians are not public servants
Because they don't know how to serve
The news will not inform
Because the public will not accept it
The world needs more love
Even those who say they love do not always love
Indifference is not the same as tolerance

And tolerance is not the answer
It is just tolerance
Merely a bandage for a gushing wound
And bandages are easily torn under mild duress

Love always was
and always will be what we need
In more ways than one as well
In actions not words
In sincerity and not show

In love with something other than ourselves

All the pretty girls (rant rant)

All the pretty girls
With their spot on fashion
Their hipster glasses
The archive of vinyl records
and their archival knowledge of 70's punk bands

Their uninspired personalities
Their self righteous anger for global issues
When pity
and caring
would have served it better

They way they abhor outside judgement
Their curve ball smiles
and disarming wit that makes you feel
down 0-2 in the count

The way their hair seems to glow
like a halo in a dark ages religious tapestry
from the era of Constantine
The Roman Empire divided in their shining locks

And when I admire them
it's always
from a distance
artificial, superficial, or otherwise
They don't want much to do with me
up close
Too grim I think
Too near to flippantly brush aside

All the pretty girls at some point
Made the decision to be that way

Guys like me
(or just me maybe)
Never had a chance
Except a knowledge fleeting
An inkling
That the pretty girls
Were not the pretty girls after all
They were impostors
Wolves in vintage clothing
Those girls are parody at best

NOTHING so good as all that
Is ever so easy to spot

I think I may happen upon only a few
Genuine articles in my life
The real pretty girls are natural and brief as that
perfect sunrise in summer
They are gone so fast

If you see them at all

I want to move out but can't cause i don't have any money or steady source of income

Chirp Chirp go the crickets
and it's a warm 10:55 while
I hear the faint glow of traffic
echoing
off of houses and
I guess the mountains

I think I must have lived out this day
A thousand times before
at the very least

Tired without real reason
bored without a motivation
and frightened

of that darkness
the unseeable beyond the street lamps
and fires burning
in the valley below

Friends and family scheme
to find a better life
and do all they can to change things
unsuccessfully it seems

For with time I watch the results of their aspiration
and the ultimate end to mindlessly rubbing their legs together
in a last ditch effort to find
something

Blunt is vulgar in poetry
but i find it
...difficult
to see the beauty of words

It seems this place
has dulled that sixth sense
of inspiration

and everything is gray

The Tribute Generation ( A new direction home)

"At the same time, I shared a dark suspicion that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actors, kidding ourselves along on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between these two poles- a restless idealism on the one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going"
- Hunter S. Thompson The Rum Diary



"Did you know you were supposed to come in today at 10?"

My manager, Dan, scanned my face while his own stubbly mouth let out a subtle, "got ya" grin. He was decked from head to toe in Nike athletic attire, a bright yellow Livestrong Tshirt and black warm up pants.

I thought about lying. About saying that I'd forgotten or that I didn't know. But it didn't matter. If I had gone this far in my subtle protest of being fired then I may as well let them know about it.

"Yeah, I knew."

He stood their while I gave a "what can ya do" shrug and smiled. Dan was a micro manager (in every sense of the word, he couldn't have stood an inch above my chin). Never leaving me to a sale, always watching over my shoulder and quizzing me on merchandise. He treated his work with a meticulous nature befitting a branch co-manager. I never liked him.

"Well okay then, I'll go get your check."

"Don't I need to sign some papers, Kathy told me something about that?"

"Nope, just wait here a second."

So I stood in the center of my former place of work. The cold, white, euro-futuristic store was uninviting to say the least. Weird techno music played over the store's speakers invoking a late 90's work out theme that gave me the chills. All this brand identity. All this rhetoric and slogan. I hated selling products, but it was the only job I was good enough for. Too bad I'm such a terrible salesman, I wouldn't have minded recieving a few more checks before summer.

"Hey Evan!"

"Oh, hi Jessica, gosh where've you been? I thought you quit."

Jessica was a bombshell to say the least. She had the most incredible features. Mestizo coffee skin, big bright beacon's for eyes, silky straight hair the sheen of a polished vinyl record, toothpaste tube smile, and of course, the outgoing nature of a Miss America contestant. Her attractiveness could not be overstated. She was too pretty for me and I was okay with it. I stayed flirty and corgial with her and she did too, with the same knowlege of innocence. The acquaintance worked rather well despite it's platonic ignorance.

"Oh no, i've just been studying abroad for a few months in Italy. It's so wonderful there, have you ever been?"

"Yeah I went with my family a while ago, it's great."

"Isn't it though? The people there are so incredibly nice and all the history and countryside; it's really like a paradise almost. And then the food, oh my gosh, I don't know how the Italians stay so thin."

"Probably cigarettes." I said, trying to be funny and receptive to her story.

"What? Oh... Right yeah maybe it's that. I've been back for a week now and honestly I miss it so much. I wish America was more like Italy. We could learn alot from..."

"Here you go Evan, take it easy" said Dan, handing me my check and extending a reluctant but commendable hand to shake.

"Thank's Dan."

I shook his hand and we shared a mutual have a nice life jackass in our minds. Then he turned to Jessica.

"Hello Jessica, how was Italy? I bet you wish you didn't have to be back to work but you gotta pay for that trip somehow right?"

Before she disappeared with Dan into the employee's only door I realized I would not see her or likely this place again. She turned around to wave with that pageant charm blinding me.

"Well, see you later Evan."

"Yeah see you later Jessica."

She didn't know I was fired and I didn't feel like telling her anyway. It's better if things end with a sort of ambiguous lie I think. Like the final scene Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind or Before Sunset. I'm sure the first thing that weasel Dan was going to tell her was that I was fired anyway.

I walked through the doors of this plastic apparel prison and out into the sunlight of a Sunday afternoon. Whatever relief or self satisfying rebellion I felt in that place was replaced with the dread of a few more years of complacent wheel spinning while I tried to find my place in the whirlwind.

I got in my car and fired it up, opting not to turn on the radio and instead drive with the windows down in relative, white silence. The engine roared to life, sucking at the gasoline I could no longer afford.

The sky was blue and cloudless and the warm afternoon breeze was lazy. My family was coming over tonight for my mother's birthday party. Company was the last thing I felt like having.

I took my time driving home. There's no rush to a firing squad for the condemned.

Wedding Bells Part 2

The wedding reception continued on into the evening. I could see the trees outside, through a open doorway, waving their branches to the soothing breeze. What had been an unbearable heat was now one of those beautiful summer nights when you feel like sleeping outside on the lawn and the grass feels better than the best comforter ever could.

An orange low-lit glow ensconced itself through all the tables as the waiters took away everyone's plates.

A few people had made their way to the dance floor like the first few ants to arrive on freshly dropped ice cream cone. They nervously skittered about bumping into each other before retreating to their table in hopes of some recruits.

Me, I was a firm believer in avoiding embarrassing situations. Nothing in my memory indicated that I could dance or would look graceful on a dance floor. As far as I was concerned it was lava and I was going to cling to this seat to avoid it.

"Come on Evan, let's dance"

My long time family friend and one time 6th grade crush smiled as she tried to coax me from my lava buoy.

"No I don't think so Hope. I'm not much of a dancer."

"Neither am I. It's just for fun, nobody cares what you look like." she said, looking really nice in her formal dress. She was always attractive but, I guess it's rare that i'd seen her so done up.

She was the first girl I ever had a crush on but it was not 'til know that I noticed what a beautiful woman she'd apparently become.

However the will avoid embarrassment was stronger than the conjured up feelings of a 12 year old and I resisted once more.

"Suit yourself Evan." she said dismissively. "Oh, Brick House, I love this song."

So she ran off to the dance floor. When it came to filling up a dance floor, no song was more inviting than Brick House. At a wedding it was somehow everyone's jam.

I watched the people laugh at each other. I felt like the boy who never went in pools at summertime parties. I had been that boy in fact. It was this bad habit which led to another, the habit of people watching.

I studied people with a careful thoroughness better reserved for a term paper. It fascinated me. Especially people acting without inhibition and wedding dance floors were full of willing players in my game.

A large man with a dark mustache and receding hairline bounced up and down like like a basketball. Laughing all the while, his face turning red.

I turned toward the wonderful night through the doorway. A tunnel to better thoughts. It brought a smile to my face. A grin born not from inward observations but a dialogue. A friendship, a feeling, a conversation. I have met a few great girls in only a short time. More so than any other group, they challenged me, they changed me, they made me smile. Girls who in the most random times pop up in my thoughts and remind me that not everything in life is so dire.

They were frustrating as well. Almost unknowable at times. Individuals, not reliant at all on me or anyone else for their self definition. But they were not uncaring or crude, in fact, they were all kind. Kindness that came from not only kind words or gestures, but in the times when I failed, they didn't. When I touched the flame and they let themselves burn out, instead of engulfing me in my misgivings.

Now they were all a sweet smoke. Smoldering in the depths of my thoughts when I feel a little tired and maybe a little lonely.

Hope, out on the dance floor, reminded me about all i'd missed out on because of overly ambitious inhibition.

I didn't have feelings for her anymore. Her flame had gone out first. But I did want someone. Not in an urgent pathetic sense that sometimes got me sloppy when I drank or depressed on beautiful days. I just felt like it was time. But I'm not the keeper of such things, I guess.

A group of girls gathered around the middle of the varnished wood tile and happily danced any number of goofy ways to the ironically sensual pop song playing over the PA system. They looked like they were having fun.

I laughed to myself and was about to stare out the doorway again when one of the girls in particular caught my eye.

I knew her.

Or at least recognized her. Understandably so. She had these beaming green eyes and pale pink skin with a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. I still couldn't remember where i'd seen her except that I knew i'd written a poem about her. Oh that's right.

She was in a health class with me. She sat near me and I think we eventually did a project together. Geraldine. Some poets had great muses. I had random girls that sat near me.

"Evan, we're going now. It's getting late."

Good old mom. I finally found a reason to stay and now it seems i'll meet the doorway before could work up the resolve to formally meet another old flame.

Gathering all of our things and saying our goodbyes we left the reception, walking just around the perimeter of the dance floor.

Always on the edge, looking in.

On the way out, I glanced one last time at Geraldine. Half joking and never fully expecting to keep my promise, I told myself if I ever saw her on campus I would talk to her.

But those are the kinds of vows one makes while their eyes are adjusting to a warm summer eve.

Echo Park

The buildings looked beautiful

The Los Angeles skyline
shimmering off the lake's surface
and a fountain like a firework
in jubilee

3AM in Downtown
Not a soul

The palm trees surrounding the water's edge
frame the financial institutions that once swelled to touch the sky
but they crumble from within

I walked through her streets
and went in circles
I went to a bar
and satiated no thirst
I enjoyed good company
and still felt isolated

But buildings
and parks
and potholed roads

I understood them

I knew they felt empty sometimes
An hour past last call
But they
and I
Still aspired to something greater

What a spectacular view
This portrait before dawn

Such a radiant display
Grandiose posturing from a model who could do no less
I felt something in me
maybe it was love

But I cannot say

Nicotine and Pheromones

Gyrating like a beached porpoise in front of me was a plump Latina and her somewhat Asian looking friend who was also thick but much more pleasantly curved. The two arrived at the bar an hour or so after we did and had been sharing our shadowy corner for the better part of the night; smoking, drinking beer and clearly hoping to catch the attention of similarly minded men. It was at once a confident yet pathetic move and I could see the foggy sadness which permeated their being like the gothic cigarette smoke hanging about them. They were my fellow humans, searching blindly for a time when they would not be dancing to cheesy auto tune pop songs because they wanted to connect with somebody new.

Friday night at Mudskippers. A well known watering hole throughout the region and it was here that I met with my friends for the first time in months. We walked across the street from a grocery store parking lot and into the front door nearly unharrassed, but alas the bartender rounded the counter asking for our ID's. He took the cards, bending them and flashing them under a black light before at last handing the drivers license back to us with a discerning look, perhaps trying to detect any signs that we were underaged boys with excellent fake identification. He took mine last but only bent it once and waved it under the light quickly. I took great satisfaction in his speedy determination that I was of age, thinking that perhaps i possessed more manly qualities than my friends who were a few months older than I. If I felt too proud of a trivial advantage it was because on this day I too had a fog of sadness, though I'm not sure anybody I knew could detect it.

We ordered our drinks and found a booth in the corner of the main room. It was dark and secluded, which was fine with my friends because they were here to drink and forget and flirty socializing was not part of that agenda.

Mike and John were their names, friends since high school, one time roommates, now educated working men with seemingly distant memories of good times.

"Remember that time we rode our bikes to the..."

I've heard this story a million times and so had they, but we all happily reminisced, remembering the younger versions of the three of us and all the random fun they had.

"I'm so exhausted today," said John. "I looked at the clock at 5 and basically spaced out for the last hour of the day."

It was such adult conversation. Looking around the room, there was a strange mish mash of old and young and stylish and clueless and happy and sad people with little homogeneity between them. It was the same at this table. I felt a world apart from Mike and John. They were graduated, working hard, engaged to be married and worried about the cliche bad economy. I was none of those things.

They drank their pitcher of beer and I sipped on a 5 dollar vodka and tonic. The lime was old and contained very little juice and so it tasted less like alcoholic sprite and more like a carbonated shot. We arrived rather early in relation to the Friday night bar scene which did not arrive until nearly 10. That's when the girls showed up and sat at a bench on the perpendicular wall to our booth.

There were a lot of women that night. Some were very beautiful girls and the rest were the lonely, exhibitionist types, pushing their breasts sky high like a billboard on the side of the freeway advertising milk. I glanced around the room periodically while our conversation ebbed and flowed organically like the tide. There was one girl in particular that I spotted who had a lovely face. I foolishly wanted to make eye contact with her, perhaps as a result of my loneliness or the amount of alcohol flowing through my brain. But mostly she never looked toward my side of the room, so I stared down at my drink.

The clear liquid caressing the ice and melting it down into different shapes. It was almost alive as I watched it adjust and slide under the forces of temperature. It was like a sculpture forming from invisible hands.

My mind wandered as it was too loud to hear my friends without really concentrating and I didn't feel up to it anyways. See, there was this girl I met. There always was. I was the same at age 12 as I was at 22 in Mudskippers.

Her name was Geraldine and honest to God it didn't start out that way. The first time we met, I had no definitive reaction to her being besides the fact that I found her face alluring and her music tastes impeccable. But I was not head over heels for her, no not at first sight. Not even the second or third sight. It was almost liberating at first, how much I resisted her unique charm and thought nothing of her indifference towards me. Talking to her was different. Unlike other girls, it didn't feel like an awkward interview where I did circus tricks to get her attention long enough to remember my name. It could relax around her.

But things changed. I started to like her and what was better as a friendship became clouded with mixed emotions. Here I was, surrounded by pretty single women. In fact, I think they were more objectively attractive than Geraldine. Yet, if she invited me to come over right now I would ditch those sirens in a heartbeat like the boring mannequins they were.

"So Evan, have you gone on any dates lately?" asked Mike.

"I mean I guess so, I don't know, I'm not sure anybody would classify a night out with me a date."

They laughed and popped peanuts into their mouths. I did the same though with the pleasure of knowing that I avoided their question successfully.

The bar continued to fill with lonely people and cigarette smoke. Broken down, that's all a night out really is; Nicotine and pheromones.

What sounded like thunder

Midday crackling. The unmistakable explosion of thunder fills the air as little girls who should not be outside right now scream. Dogs bark, planes scramble to the airport and a paparazzi flash fills my vision so quickly I wasn't sure it even happened.

Judgment day was upon the Mountain View community, may God's wrath be swift and merciful.

Friday afternoon, graduation plus 5. Afternoon thunderstorms are an occasional part of life in a California summer. Despite the restless air, not a drop has leaked from the gray mass blocking the mountains from view.

Earlier I wrote down some words that were not mine, from an interview I didn't do. It's grunt work but still the most proactive thing I have done so far with my new life.

My life as an "educated" pre-professional.

I dispatched my resume to the local newspaper a few day's ago. A shot in the dark at my parents suggestion. I don't expect much to come of it. A speaker at my commencement ceremony joked that my graduating class had impeccable timing to be entering the job market at the least opportune moment in 50 years. A real riot of a sentiment. All the same, it was true. Truer for me perhaps because I was hoping to partake in an industry which will never bounce back.

A newspaper man. That was never my intention; my only plan was to write because I thought it something I could do. Journalism was just the familiar face of my fractured aspirations.

I really hope I can make something of this.

The wind is picking up and the trees are dancing. It feels tropical. The storm has moved on and only the occasional beat can be heard above the din of passing traffic.

These are the echoes of sentiment from a college graduate 5 days into "reality". A clap of thunder reverberating off a mountainside.

A "Man"

As the amber liquid
poured into my gullet
I winced;
Harder every second to drink than the last
I forced myself to grin and bear it

The tingling pins that pricked my face
upon completion of a few bottles
was now more akin to a headache
than a fuzz

Still I choked down more

Grasping at the fleeting happy buzz
Of bubbles behind clear glass
now suds
they cleansed my throat and mind

But I felt no better

A lager could never satisfy me
lacking even the basic satiating
ability of water or harder alcohols

It was just something men do
Men binge on brews
and cuss and intimidate

Men arrive late holding the hand of a girl they just met
Men joke about intimacy with their peers in secretive boldness
With girlfriends just out of earshot

Their cheeks red with laughter and too much liquor
Their women with embarrassment

Beer always disgusted me
I imagine it always will
"No, you'll grow to like it"

I don't ever want to
Trying to live on other people's terms
Leaves a bitter taste


I'd just as soon purge it from my mouth
Than deal with a hangover
from betraying a truer identity

There but for the Grace...

An Irish man at a British pub
in North Upland
A sloppy sad Thursday night
with nothing to do

Not a soul in the bar save for me
two friends and a vodka tonic

drink of choice
quick buzz

Though it always makes me want a cigarette

The lights begin to die
and its past last call
only 12:01 and its already last call
I want to drop everything and leave

When I don't feel at home at home
A motivation for better things?

The old Irish man, long since faded
told a short joke about a turtle and two snails
punchline about speed
clever and not funny

A pitiful lonely man
The man I don't want to be

Piss drunk and single in North Upland on a Thursday night
This isn't a bar, he said
It's a Goddamn British Pub

He meant every word of it
Channeling his deep convictions
through a matter of drunken semantics

Like an artist
His masterpiece a stupor

The future as an insecurity

Stare into the expanse
Feel the insignificance of not knowing
Wish for greatness
Receive humility

All stars do their best to burn brightest
Yet some are but faint pinpoints
In the night sky

Take the hits as they come
Often and early

The darkness of space is a cruel audience
Seeking to devour
In it's insatiable black hole

There is no sense in guessing the fate
For the future is a Nebula
A picturesque monument without form
or substance
A gaseous cloud of hope and doubt
become insecurity

We sit out on warm summer nights
With low powered telescopes
Dreaming of things beyond our reach

Take care to remember how limited our
view of the infinite is
I have to remind myself of this
when my perspective worries me

Love in the time of Swine Flu

We were sitting on a couch
and talking in a circle like we
always used to

Me near you but not so near
You know how it can be

And I made a joke

"Neither could he"
I barely got the punchline out through my own laughter
And you with me
our sides splitting
my guts spilling

You smiled at me
While we both recovered

This was one of the saddest moments I can remember
because though you laughed for me

The rest of you was his

I drove home alone, like I so often do
watching the headlights
from the other side of the freeway partition
Knowing it was not possible to cross the barrier

Red lights ahead, always the red lights

Wedding Bells Part 1

The Anaheim hills were especially dry as we drove through a suburban neighborhood off the 55 freeway. Winding through one housing development after another, trying to find this park nestled somewhere between the grocery stores and Circle K's.

"We're gonna be late," said my mom in an accusing tone I'd come to know as love. "I told you we should have left before the the golf match ended."

My dad ignored her as he frantically searched for Linden Park. It was so hot outside I couldn't even lean my head against the rear window without getting burned. A little readout on the dashboard said it was a stifling 97 degrees. A great day to go swimming at a pool or the beach, not so great a day for an afternoon outdoor wedding.

My collar choked me as I struggled to feel comfortable in drab dress pants and a button up shirt. My brother sat opposite me, equally uncomfortable, equally annoyed. I hoped we'd never find the park. At least in the car there was air conditioning and my mp3 player. Outside my window was the anticipation of a purely miserable hour and a half.

I imagined what awaited me. The intense heat beating down on my tie noosed neck, all the hot air building up. My brow and arms so sweaty it was like sitting in a self contained sauna. Long drawn out vows, outdated rituals, and hundreds of people I don't know and probably wouldn't care too. And to top it off I'm supposed to be happy that I'm watching a grown man cry as he walks his daughter down the aisle to a guy who in just a few short hours will be having sex with said daughter. How messed up is that. Even the Japanese didn't surrender until until they got nuked twice and i'm pretty sure we didnt sink the ship they surrendered on.

"John, there it is! Hurry up and find parking it looks like they've started the ceremony," she barked as my father skidded into a stall like Jason Statham in every movie he's ever done.

"Grab the present Evan, quit dragging your feet" my father commanded. If I was dragging my feet it was only because they were were melted into the asphalt.

The ceremony began ten minutes after we arrived, much to the chagrin of my now haggard looking parents and everyone else who were fanning themselves with the program. On stage at the front stood a nervously smiling guy about my age. Actually younger than me by a year. We went to school and church together for a long time. His mom and my mom were friends, and that is how we ended up at the wedding of a person I haven't seen in 7 years.

I always disliked the waiting portion of the wedding and how it was so built up for the bride. The groom had to stand in front of everyone grinning like an idiot until the bride finally got her act together and the music played and a parade like procession accompanied her. I mean, standing up for the bride? Should we lay down palm branches too? I wonder what would happen if I touched hem of her garment.

His name was Jeremy. His eyes darted back and forth from the pastor to his parents. He beamed with happiness.

The music started. The wedding party walked the aisle in the first official joining of their two lives. His friends hand in hand with her friends. She walked out behind them with her father, who was not crying but smiling himself. We stood and though the bride was stunning in her gown I mostly watched Jeremy's face. He was glowing with a strange mixture of what looked like pride and relief. His eyes welled up a bit and I got the feeling that the heat of this early summer like day was lost on him.

After they were pronounced man and wife the party moved indoors where we were thankfully in the comfort of air conditioning and live music. Now I was happy. Plus there were always attractive girls at weddings. Who knew what was going to happen once I loosened that tie.

Bored Games

Scattergories.

Roll the dice
Watch that baby bounce
W.
What a crappy letter
Why W
Where is the timer

Two minutes
timer set to go
and go

Tropical cities
Waikiki of course
but everyone will put that
but I cant think of anything else

Skip for later

Boys names
Walter, no
Walrus, the guy who looks like a walrus
Wilford Brimley
How old is that guy anyways?

Yikes! the timer is still running

Superheroes,
W, W, W, W,
Why can't I think of one?

Look at everyone else
they're all writing
peeking at the person next to me does no good
She is so close though

Her arm feels really soft
incredibly so
I like it
I don't like her like that
just the touch

Her arm over my arm
It's so different
At least I can enjoy it for a moment

A moment
How much tim...
"Times Up!"
Wonder Woman
How did I not think of that before?
It would have been a double score

I only have a couple usable answers
and a lingering suspicion that I'm a bit lonely tonight
Roll the dice again
Who can say what letter we land on next?

Second hand smoking

"There is no love
only hate"
the talking head on stage repeated
for what value I don't know
Maybe he felt it was a revelation
one humanity had yet to realize

But in that moment
I knew
I never once
had an outlook so bleak as that

The glittery curtains of this hipster ballroom
wrap the crowd in spacey glow
And in the smokey room I sat
alone
peering through the nicotine haze

Giant saucers above my head
collect all the sounds in the room
like I was listening in on a hundred
phone conversations
all at once

So I sat and watched
because what else would I do in that situation

When you are alone in a room full of people who aren't
It feels more empty
than my Saturday night
Like despite all this life around me
I could not be part of it
but merely an observer

I told myself this is possibly what the future holds for me
A seat to one side
of a vanilla colored couch
inhaling smoke and conversation
from other peoples lungs

Which sounds dire
But never once would I believe there is no love in this world
How could I
When it was obvious as the cigarette cloud around me
I could breathe deep and choke on other peoples romance

Second hand love
Everybody tells me it's a killer
But what good is second hand knowledge anyhow

I'd just as soon smoke myself to cancer
than listen to those terminal cases

Letting it be ( short story)

I was reading Bukowski and part of of his poem would not leave my mind

I do not want to love you
I do not want to save you
I do not want your arms
I do not want your shoulders
I have me
you have you
Let that be.

***

"Evan I'm seeing someone, I just thought I'd let you know."

Adele's voice echoed in my head. This was it, you know. The ultimatum, the relationship, the end of torture really. It was always going to end this way. I was not myself anymore since I met her. I could not be and that was not something you could build a relationship on.

But that didn't lessen the blow. It still hurt. And not just emotionally, I felt it physically too. All throughout my body I felt soreness. My stomach dropped, I wasn't hungry. My being ached like it hadn't in a while.

"Ok Adele, that's great you sound happy..."

And it just came out, all the appropriate mature things I'm supposed to say. It felt like stabbing myself in the soft part of my temple. I was so low already, I didn't know where to go from there. There was no anger in my heart towards her, how could there be. I didn't even feel sore towards whoever she was now with. I wasn't even mad at myself. I was just there.

Numb all over like I wasn't breathing. Like I was drowning but accepting it. I had no desire, no drive, no sadness, no fear, nothing.

We hugged and I walked out the door, into the warmth of daylight but it was lost on me. I always thought I might cry if it ever came to this, but no tears came.

I was just alone.

Love was never a risk worth taking. Not when I knew it would always end like this. Or I should say, what I thought was love would always end like this. In my heart I knew that what attraction I had for Adele, no matter how insatiable it seemed, was not real love.

It was the absence of it. It was like starving. It was like a mouth watering off of the smell of a meal alone. I didn't know what I sought but I knew I wanted it badly.

I thought back to a conversation I had with Eleanor almost a year before.


"What does being in love mean to you?" I asked her half jokingly.

But she took it quite seriously.

"Depends which kind... if we're talking about the love for people, I believe it means to be willing to do anything for that person without selfish intentions and to show your love to them. As far as romantic love... Loving someone would be when you cant stop thinking about them and love them despite their mistakes because they're that worth it."

I looked at her and knew that somewhere in that definition she probably had me in mind.

"What about you?" she asked.

So I thought. I thought beyond all I knew about love and what I had experienced so far, because I recognized that it was not really love at all. Finally I answered her.

"Love is... watching someone die," I joked, quoting a Death Cab song.

"No come on, you can't just quote," she said a little annoyed but smiling. I stopped smiling and gave her my real answer.

"Romantic love, is knowing someone as completely as they'll let you and them knowing you as much as they are willing to learn and knowing that if nothing else you were completely yourself with one person in your lifetime. To me anyways."

That was the most honest I ever was to myself or anyone else about love.


So maybe love was worth taking risks for, I didn't know. But the hunger for it was all the same. Whether you had it or not, there was no hope, there was no reason to fight.

And so I continued to walk, walk, walk away. Back to my car, expressionless and silent.

I didn't listen to music cause I wanted no consoling. I felt nothing. Like nothing. And I wondered how long it would be before my mouth watered again. Sometimes it took years. Would I even care by that time? Tomorrow was my birthday and I did not care.

April Showers

Cloudy skies you rolled in so suddenly
so subtly
The streets are filled with your tears
but you always move on
The wisdom of a cloud is her ability
to slowly roll away
Rain then shine
April showers and May flowers

I'd cry too
to see you go
But not move on
forgetting upon forgetting
I'm not sure we ever do
or want to
Clinging to the clouds as they slip through our fingers
like the vaporous mist she always was
leaving us with cold hands
desperately seeking something to hold on to

She rests for now
nestled happily against the mountains
And I ceased caring
and began pressing on
Indifference is only fair at this point
There is too little time to waste with our head in the clouds

We are nothing like a storm
because if I were weather
the plants and animals would have withered long ago
Not enough shine, not enough warmth
There would be no spring

Most things
are better left
out of my
control.