Monday, January 30, 2012

Beach Week

I am a ghost, drifting unseen through gray halls.
Maybe I died that day, like I thought.
But I stayed to haunt these spaces.
Mine is the melancholy of the dead,
Full of the hopeless
Of nowhere to go,
Nothing to do.

You named me your ancient friend
And called me your life’s love.
And I shared your longing
And I let myself dream.
But the dreams of the dead go unheard
By the god who’s meant to hear them.

I am the blur in the shadows,
The man with the mandolin.
I sing my songs to rooms with no ears.
And no eyes bear witness.

My mouth tastes of smoke, even now.
My throat hurts, and my head
And I wonder if all the choices from last night were good ones.
They felt good at the time.

But then paranoia sets in.
Does anyone know? Did anyone
See the parts of me I try to hide
Behind jokes and smiles
Behind a cool manner and a drunken dance?
I am nonchalant
Or think I am.

But did anyone notice
My eyes linger too long,
My hand grasp at the air,
My heart reach out from my chest
To be drawn back in when I think
Someone is watching?

Daylight Savings Time arrived while I slept.
Sneaky bastard.
He stole an hour from me.
Or maybe
I was living on borrowed time.
And he merely reclaimed what was his. 

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