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
“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
Quietly passing moments
From the brains
Of different people