I Remember Slowly

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

the edge,

I just needed a little push,

while everyone else grew up in unison,

I was already wrapped up in some a

artificial security,

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

gathered there,

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

around me,

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

around me,

preoccupied themselves

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,

sipping my

manhattan transfer

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.

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