she looks
at me
and says
why not
then a war
of words
ensues
the teenage years
are not
for the weary
weak
of heart
it’s like
you die
in the desert
slowly
and nobody’s
coming
to rescue you
but the death
is on the inside
it’s internal
on the outside
you’re walking around
and talking
and driving to the grocery
store
stopping at the light
and looking around
and listening to a song
and watching
a bird
and hanging electric lines
and shadows on the street
and the light changes
and you move through it
and walk in the gym
and stare at the bag
for a small eternity
then chop it in-half
for a fragment
and put it back
gather your stuff
and yourself
and walk out the gym
and get in the car
and sit in the silence
for an untimely time
this is hard …
you say to yourself
much harder than you thought
it’d be
and you knew
it’d be hard
emotional stuff
always is
it’s like Joni Mitchell
at the Grammys
tapping her cane
in the final Act
“i really don’t know …
l i f e …
at all …“
TL