The Sun Rises

I’ll never fully recover
I’ll never really completely get her
out of my system
We spent years together
raging against the reality
of the world.
We created our own world,
a false and sometimes
magnificent world
that was all our
own.

But it all came crashing down
when we came to the realization
that our peace
was really just an imitation
of the real
thing.
Our love
was just an imitation
of the real
thing.

We tried and
we failed,
but to have never tried
would be much worse than
that of our failure.

She writes me
every now and then
and it pains me to know
that this beautiful
brilliant
goddess
of a woman
who no longer
shares the bed with me
is doing worse now
that what we had is
over.

I want to rise up
and take her into my
arms and erase the troubles
the fear
the depression
I want to make her all better
and I want her to
sport an infinite and
radiant smile.

We fucked and
fought
and made out
in public restrooms
and alleyways
and kept each other
from a single day
or night
of boredom.

I can’t erase the past
and I can’t take back
what I did or said in the
dark times of our demise
but I can now tell you, babe,
you improved my life
immensely
even now,
sitting sipping on a cold beer
at this typer.

I can’t take back what was
said or done
but I can tell you now
I can now sit in this room alone
think of her
and not feel any resentment
or bitterness towards
her at all.

We’ve come a long way
and I just wanted to let you
and everyone else know
that the sun rises.
It’s even rising now as I
hold up this beer to my lips
and type out this poem with love,
baby, with love.

———————————————————————

For: The foxy gal waiting tables at Pint who doesn’t know
what to write poetry about.

Poetry can be about:

A cocaine razorblade
looking for a wrist
to cut

The black lace panties
of the foxy Italian girl
that poke just ever so slightly
out the top of the back of
her jeans
as she bends
to pick up her bag-
jutting out her perfect
ass sending you into
orgasmic bliss

The piss-drunk old man
on the park bench that reeks
of piss
shit
and alcohol

Losing yourself
in her broken bluesy whisper
over conversation on
Sylvia Plath

A lone mouth
searching for
a scream

Screwing a girl
or boys brains out
in a seedy nighttime
movie theater

Concussion number
2,000 from yet
another hazy
drunken night

Staring into the
large mouth opening
of a 24 ounce can
of Old Style

Sleeping 15 solid hours
in a twin bed with
the most beautiful
girl you’ve ever
had the privilege of
knowing-
let alone touching

A continuous blood flow
drip dripping from
your nose
from a night of blow

A walk through the
starry streets
of whatever
city you may
be in

A drunken
drug-fueled
fistfight
with your old lady

Killing your enemies
dousing them
in lighter fluid
and burning the motherfuckers
in front of their women
and children

Holding hands
and kissing
on a rickety rusty
carnival
ferriswheel

A sweaty beery smoky
basement show
featuring your
favorite punk-rock bands

Feeding ducks
at the park all alone
on a sunny Saturday afternoon

A girl who once
held onto you
but who now
is holding on for
dear life

Bukowski
Carver
Fante
Faulkner
Crews
R. Perez
Selby
Cometbus
Burroughs
Ginsberg
Cassady
Kerouac

Things you wish
you could tell her
but
can’t

Losing your wedding ring
on a regretfully boozy
evening consisting
of being 86′d
and stomped
to shit

Your first
second
third
fourth
birthday without her
by your side

Waking up
covered in mud
blood
and beer
and having no
recollection
of what
happened

Smashing your thumb
with a rubber mallet
trying to drive a spike
through a baseball bat
to fend off
imaginary
burglars

Shooting a raccoon
in your basement
after you thought you
had rid of
the son of a bitch
for good

Cunts and cocks
and eyes and smiles
and teeth

Drunkenly dancing
your ex-girlfriend
across the icy
sidewalk
outside the bar
in front of her current
boyfriend

See?

Poetry can be about
anything you
want it to be
so long as you follow
your heart’s
purest thoughts

That’s my secret
in plain view
FOLLOW
YOUR
HEART

So,
now that I’ve let
the cat out of
the bag
revealed my trick
my secret-
you’d best
get crackin’,
kid.

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