Post Meridiem

Outside, the river of brake lights travels home in straight lines while your mind dwells on your fault lines, vivid in the red light. All of the dreams you’ve tried to unremember float downstream while the shuffling feet of restless trouble echo in the street.

Have I made a mistake? And if so, is it too late for me to change?

The laugh lines formed in your past lives curl into a sad smile while you sigh and try to explain why you’ve been hiding from sight. But none of the words that you can muster suffice to explain, and it only gets worse with every wasted night and slept-through day.

But it feels so good to be lost and looking up at the dark.
Won’t it be so sad if it is you that lets you down... I thought as the day passed and the sun went down.

The bed got cold as you put coffee on for two. The television relayed all the news of what was happening outside. The morning came and went. We never made the bed. We looked around at all the time we’d spent in there and left without a word into the warm evening where we were just in time feel the fading light warm our skin before it died.

I laughed out loud and said: “We caught the best of it.”
You sighed and looked away. “Uh-huh. I guess we did.” you said under your breath.

(I love you more than I will ever say aloud.

There is so much more that I have hidden and withheld.

We are such strangers to each other and ourselves.)

“I am yours,” you say with faith in me no disappointment could shake. But what in the world could you possibly know about me that I, for the life of me, don’t?

“And I am yours,” I say. I look in your eyes and we both look away. Something I cannot name is bothering me. It’s under the table and tugging my sleeve. We cannot go back. We’ve killed every lover that we couldn’t catch. If everything we’ve ever done has led to now then our bad luck has saved us from worse fates, somehow.

“So what do you propose? What should we do, honey? Where should we go?"

"I will go anywhere you’d like to be. We can head for the hills or lay low by the sea.”

“Baby let’s go out. Put up your hair while I put on our song.”


I felt alone when you fell asleep.
I stared at the dark and I heard you breathe a sigh of relief into the sheets.

I feel alone when you fall asleep.
I sit on the couch and I want to drink and I don’t sleep; I just wake up.

I get scared almost every day.
What if we’re making a huge mistake? People do it every day.

I don’t know where I’ve been.

My failures dull as the future dims. Soon enough I don’t exist.The stars come down and the edges blur as all the warmth returns to Earth. Old times come back and flood my brain: pretty girls with pretty names. Under the wine I always feel brand new.

So much for medicinal remedies, liquid-gel quick-release pills in the drawer by the bed. So much for self help publications’ recommendations for headaches you buy at the bar.

Tinfoil hats will not keep out the voices that climb in your head and make terrible noises. We die every night and are born in the morning again.

So long.

I’ve been thinking about skipping town, south-bound with thumbs stuck out. New ground to bury the dead.

So long.

I’ve been counting my silver hair, pawning the silverware.

How did it all come to now?

You can throw darts at a map on the wall, but it won’t make a difference, wherever you are, if you bring your old self along to ruin everything.

Mary, what a lovely garden.
Autumn has come and I’ve forgotten who we were when you first loved me. Have we have changed, or was it just me?

Mary, Mary, will me marry?
Either, or, and neither, scare me to death.

But never you mind your pretty head. Mary, push it from your mind. Smooth those furrowed worry lines. We’re justing living, doing time. Around and around, hello, goodbye.

Oh Mary, never mind. Just forget it, Jesus Christ.

Lizzie said it better than I think I ever could: “I will love you like I love you.”

I guess that’s it.

I don’t know who you are yet, but you are under my skin. My knees shake from the weight of being yours.

We’ve locked the doors to keep out the weather.
We’ve bundled our hearts and we’ll break them together. Don’t I smile like such a fool when I’m talking to you?

But goddam sometimes it’s so hard to speak. I can’t separate you from me. What if we didn’t mean any of it?

What then?

Darling, you’re a piece of knotted string. It’s the simple way you’re so complicated.

Sometimes it’s lonely being in love with you but I don’t even mind most days. No, you don’t talk much, but I know what you’ve been trying to say to me with your long, loaded looks, and the quiet breaths you take.

I’ll see you tomorrow, but I won’t know how I’m going to feel until then.