The Things We Lose

See, there’s not a lot sometimes. There’s not a lot that keeps a person going. There’s the important things: a child, family, friends.

And sometimes these are what serve to make a person who feels like a shit person, feel like more of a shit person. Why aren’t you better, more, softer.

There are a lot of these in life, these hindrances that subtract: alcohol, money, owning anything, a purchase. Something spent. Nothing gained. A drink. A lost night.

I also have the other things, the positives: There is music. There are words, the poetry, fiction, songs. The things others have made, the things I have made.

The things I have made.

You can’t fake what you’ve never had, and I think when you’re young, you’ve had it more than when you’re older. It’s new, the first time, the most potent and the most painful. It’s the young musician, singing about love, singing about heartache, the writer who is writing about loss. Have you felt the loss? Have you felt it more potently than as a youth?

Listen. We’ve all felt it.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe in my mid life crisis. Youth.

It isn’t about what I’ve never had these days. It’s about what I’m losing. It’s about all I’ve experienced that will never be again.

The Effects of Time

Talk about quitting
Drink some coffee
Excuses are so easy
Sitting on a bar stool
Sifting through memory

All of my idols smoked
Quitting is so easy
When the options are
Given to leaving
Walking away

That day
Tiny apartment
A box of cheap wine
In a plastic skull wine glass
Modest Mouse
Bukowski’s Factotem open
Alone in a plastic chair

The product of
Stray thoughts
The grains of memory
A bottle rocket in the backyard
A chemical reaction

The line of a song
Played on repeat
The skipping of a record
The nerves
When the heart skips a beat

Spring Moments and The Robin

Free camo camp chairs and
The cool breeze
Uline branded on the backs
Glass bottle sodas and
Time spent side by side
A huge robin lands in the grass
Rust breast
And you point
Whisper
“Look, but be very quiet”
We stare at nature
Lilacs and tulips
Goose flesh on my legs
And he flies away
And we sit back
Pick up our books
Refocused
Quietly passing moments
From the brains
Of different people

I Write Haikus Not About Nature

We Become Who We Are, Who We Were, When We Listen
Friday night I drink
And listen to NPR
Tiny Desk Concerts

The Utility Bill Guy Was Awkwardly Attractive And I Probably Spelled His Name Wrong
Zach knocked on my door
Had questions about my gas
Utility bill

Strep Throat Doesn’t Actually Steal Your Soul Unless It’s Some Spell That An Ex Casts That Is Specifically A Strep Throat Soul Stealing Spell
Strep is a shit guy
Who takes and takes and wants more
Like maybe your soul

That Year Spiders Plotted To Take My House, and Invited The May Flies Along For The Ride
Spiders in my house
They gather where the wall meets
Ceiling, and they plot

The Day We Saw Dead Bodies in the Museum And Some Other Things

That time I went
To Chicago
The three hour train ride
And you bought me coffee
from Starbucks
We went to the library
And the stress of
Being on a trip all alone
Caught up with me

We caught the first bus
To the museum
Where the bodies
Of dead donated people
Made up a whole exhibit
Made up a whole floor
And later
A nice stranger took our picture
In a place I can’t remember

In a diner on Michigan
I played Frank Turner
From my phone
Because I knew you needed
Love Song and Ire in your life
Told you I’d been there before
The same diner
Six years prior
My best friend and I
Spent lunch in before
Flying to England
Where we discovered underground murder
How to hide in a water closet
And encountered a mime by the Eye
Shown a friendship
By a dancer from Detroit
And her drug dealing friend Ben
Who bought me a shot
And everything was so loud
Like a car driving straight
Through the hostel walls
on the fourth floor

I saw a picture
And the memories make up
My over crowded brain
And I can leave it here
Can leave it on this page
A piece of something
In a place where
A puzzle will form
As I make room
As I make parts of a whole
As I Build and break
Build and break

Chicago Flower