Los Angeles
Griffith Park,
June 2009,
we got out of our concrete cage
and into the untamed wild.

We tried to escape the amber streetlights
because they polluted the sky;
twinkling stars
winking aeroplanes and
startling skylines
covered in the midnight blue.
I walked with you,
in lockstep,
we avoided the cracks
in the pavement.

We found a quiet place,
just you and I,
the sky cleared
and I didn’t want to blow my cigarette palls
into the sky
as I feared
they would block your view.

A worn out girl
beaten daily
by her dad
brother
boyfriend
fiancée
husband.

All of them.

The weight of the world is on her shoulders.

Like any other day.

We flew to Las Vegas
and Atlantic City
a lot in our gambler years.
Walked down the Strip
or Borgata
bathed in city lights
pumped up on drinks.

Lester got snatched
for counting cards,
Derrick went away,
drunk driving,
we don’t care
we just keep drinking
and keep losing.

Practicing poker faces
at the table
makes it easier
to lie to our wives.

And we don’t talk about our kids
while at the tables
or in the bar.
College funds gambled away
or spent on prostitutes.
We know we’re
letting them down.

I am not a person
just a fool
worthless
spineless
mindless
unhappy
just a string of events
and flings.

My dad said, “Power through”
my mom said, “Pour me another”.
Both said, “You’re our everything”.
I started out with nothing
and in the end
it will still be
my everything.

You stood there
wearing your hurricane dress.
And all that swept across my mind
was how the gale would clash our bodies together.

After-party, the people were firmly rooted
bored, long-winded.
You were in the bathroom stall on the second floor
blowing me away,
blowing me in gusts
and launching a chilling breeze
down my spine.

Years later, the sweet tunes
clanged by the wind chimes
reminded me of you
wearing your hurricane dress
leaving me breathless.
Before you stormed off.

We were sitting in Central Park,
the place we met.
I wore this smile and
you this scowl.
It wasn’t an easy time for you, I know
I could tell by your fickle eyes and that vein popping on your forehead.
But everyone goes through tough times.

As you talked to me, I tuned out.
The butterflies were doing somersaults
in my stomach
as the girls did cartwheels
on the lawn.

I don’t remember much from that day.
I remember not seeing you again,
or those girls again.
I remember buying cheap boxed wine
and chugging it all day,
just to mellow out
those butterflies.