believe me, I would fix me if I could
I would use all the right words
repent of all the right sins
do all the right things
make amends again and again
I have walked that road too many times
and I am weary of fixing me
I'd rather live and see what happens
even if it ends up a pile of broken bones

Bukowski's later years weren't so bad
he lived in a nice house
with a swimming pool in the back yard
drove a BMW
didn't drink so much
enjoyed the success of discovery
sold books and movies
and never gave in again

I sat alone in the middle of a bench in a full waiting room waiting to get blood drawn and he sat next to me so I moved over to the end of the bench and he gruffed
"I'm not going to bite you
You didn't have to move over so far."
He took it personal and I felt bad because he was the kind who needed a friend but what he didn't know is that I would have rather been anywhere than in a crowded anything room

I have a first cousin
whose son is sick with leukemia
not responding to treatment
her Dad died earlier this year
and she had a brother
killed in a wreck at twenty-two
I wonder if she is the one
who is inheriting all the family tragedies

If only your arms
Held me true again
Our lips and
bodies entwined~
If we could remember
language once shared.
Find our rhythm divine

Yet we have climbed
these ravaged cliffs
Heartbreak Chasm
between~
A fragile bridge
of diminished connect
Crossed only in my dreams

Older now
in this state of suspense
To watch our love fall away~
A tender time for both of us
This loss of each
Precious day


Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved