69)
I suppose it would be good
to get away for a while,
or to be somewhere
or someplace that no one dares
to speak out of turn
or break the silence
to say an unnecessary thing.
It would be good to be someplace
or elsewhere,
and elsewise,
it would be good to gain distance
from the common casualties
of everyday living
or everyday life.
It would be good to get away from the lights
and fast-paced conundrums
or the willy-nilly
moments where we waste time
with knee-jerk reactions,
just to come back
with a comeback
like when we were kids
and told momma jokes.
I see it this way,
and I hate it when people speak
like a reflex
triggered by thoughts of insecurity
and irrational worries that say,
oh no . . .
I hope no one notices
I wore two different socks,
and then,
there was that one time
I packed two different shoes,
that looked the same
only, I packed two right shoes
and I had to stand and do a presentation.
I want to escape, as in, go
or fly away to a place which I have heard about,
but I have never seen.
I want to be somewhere,
like maybe south where the water takes on a different blue,
or Cabo Del Sur,
down by the Island of The Saint,
or, if at all possible;
let me see the Amalfi coast,
or Greece, or even if we made things
nice and simple, than, okay. . .
I’d be fine to have a cup of coffee
and sit by the inlet in Montauk
just to watch the sun come up.
70)
I have no connection nor desire
to be in the middle of the commotion
nor do I wish for the things
I wished for when I was a younger man,
wearing a younger man’s suit,
and diving deeper,
nor do I fit or identify
with the way I was when I was younger,
and eager to go or be or do.
I have lost touch with that reality.
I have let go of those needs,
which is not to say that I am not eager,
nor is this to say
that I do not want to feel the spirit
or my youth—because, of course,
I do.
However, and in connection
with my new testament,
and in accordance with my new desires
ever proving that I am still
hopeless, and still romantic
and still in love,
I am still a man or, so, at least
this is how I choose to identify myself;
because yes, I am a man.
I am a man with hopes,
which is sometimes dangerous
and often deadly,
and frequently disappointing.
However,
I am still a man who dreams,
who wishes
who speaks to the sky
and tells my secrets
to a starlit nights,
especially when the moon
floods my bedroom with moonlight
and the electric blue
is a beam of hope, and I?
I am still a man
and I am still hopeful,
and I am still imperfect,
and I am still a work
in progress.
I am this
and I am more.
I am the remnants of my memory
which I admit
memory can do us a disservice
especially when
we misremember the past
or feed the symptoms
of a life that’s been lived
in an underwhelming way.
71)
I want to go
with you
away,
Somehow.
I want this to be something
like a spark or something to ignite
the flame in my life
that resumes the firelight in my heart
and I want this to be something
that burns inside of me
so hot and so bright
that I forget that I was cold
or that it was dark
or that I was hurt
or broken.
I am a soul
resurrected and re-found
because, in all honesty,
I looked everywhere for myself
but I never stopped to think
that I was here with you
the entire time—
I once told you,
my breath exists in only yours
and like the sun
or the moon,
or like shafts of light,
my heart exists in yours
and like the sun
or the moon,
you have taught me to resume
and you have shown me how to aspire
to dream
and to want more,
even when my dreams
are not within reach
or out of this world,
you have shown me
not to stop.
Swift breezes, and rainbows
that end in fields,
and old trees that sit upon a hill
at the side of an old dirt road
are all very real to me.
There is a place like this,
which I would love to show you.
I was a boy here.
That’s all.
I buried a few secrets on this hill
and I said farewell to a few of my sins here.
But this place, somehow,
this is an embodiment of me,
even though I am not the same
as I was when I was a boy;
— I am still me,
you are you,
and with all my heart,
I couldn’t be more thankful
for this
or
for you.
Yes . . .
I’d like to go
away.
Somewhere
someplace
soon . . . .
The Written Addiction 