Hey E Baby,
most of the time
I can deal
with this thing
that hangs in the air
like smoke
from the cigarettes
you couldn’t live without
I put on
the brave face
red lipstick involved
trip out
in the shit-kicking boots
I laugh on cue
toss this hair back
theatrics invoked.
But every now
and then
when alone
invisible
I go
to the tenuous
dark
unspoken places
cloaked in fear
aching with despair
It strikes
with a vengeance
malignant ill.
Sometimes
in the vague
shadows
of a kitchen
mourning
or in the truck
plunging across
the bay street bridge
often walking down
beaver lake road
lunch interrupted
and sour
once while searching
for ties
in the men’s department
I get lost
in colors and textures
shopping disrupted.
In these times
I break down
fall to pieces
crumble
cookie-wise
fragmented
hopeless crybaby
motherless child
scared cat
chicken-shit coward
Hey E Baby,
sometimes
I just need
time out
to be
this sad love.
