When I was a boy,
a baseball game outside,
trying to get along,
I was just being a boy,
found an edge,
a warm sort of fuzzy
disposition took me outside,
to be that boy
the baseball diamond.
I couldn’t hit the ball without
I just needed a little push,
while everyone else grew up in unison,
I was already wrapped up in some a
the kind my dad modeled only with weaker results.
The bottle was my comfort zone,
a hit as I dashed out the breezeway,
the immediate warmth, the kick,
smooth as I let out a sigh
now I began to fly.
I remember seeing my dad
at the local fair,
everything and everyone
in their churchy sort of way
they’re all watching me today,
and my dad,
well his face was sad.
I do recall the bicycle ride
feeling removed from everyone
I gained speed without any notion
dying in the middle of the street
my dad, well if he knew,
he’d be kind of
I grew up realizing how everyone
with anything but me,
so when it came to treating myself
there was no one to explain.
When I did drugs, I never had fun,
except that first time,
walking into the casino,
pulling the arm,
and knowing by the sound
if I was winning my new losses.
Sitting in a bar,
just a fresh young adult,
while the music edged me out
of knowing how to respond.
Instead I would drink
again, the warm flow that would blanket
my exposed self.
I was a middle-aged man when
I came to terms with me back then.
I think of today, and recognize each way
I could return to pain and confusion.
I wanted to stay away,
but she was so attractive,
I would never imagine knowing her in any sort of way.
She was incense, she was fragrant, stubbor, and blessed
with an energy to find me looking for myself.
I realized then I was too tired anymore.