A Going Crazy Two

headlights-fsSitting here reading
It’s been two pages
And I don’t remember a word

I am with you
As if walking
As if I’ve said all I can say
As if I love you
As if that’s not enough
Not anymore
I don’t know what you want me to say
I don’t know how to go back and fix
Whatever it is I broke
I don’t really know
But you expect me to
Understand you don’t see
How a man’s head can be cement
How his ears can be bunged
How his heart might not and
Wonder why beat in unison
In this case yours

Haven’t I been paying
Enough attention to you
I haven’t wanted to do
Enough of what you do
Though the ground you
Walk on is always a surprise


I have.
I have!
I have two and two
A going crazy two to

Sitting here I would
Desperately not knowing
The difference between two
Better than I have to
Short of being

Is that what you want?
I ask
You say

But it is
Isn’t it
You want me to be two
To give up the one
And only for the only one
You want whatever I
Should know it is

Understanding, though…
Isn’t that a truck in the middle
Of a dark, rainy, dreary night
Without headlights around a curve
As if the light of the moon is
Enough is never enough
And more than enough is what
Will wear the brakes if the hill
Is steeper than the dark is
Too much for the moon.

You don’t understand
And that’s what I’ve been
Saying I don’t either
As if it should have meaning
Enough to be left
But then, it’s raining
And it always has been

A Going Crazy Two

All I Have Left

Fifty thousand times I have saidocean waves on a stormy day
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry
But like the ocean wave
That returns and returns again
Pounding the beach
Soothing the beach
Forgiving the beach
There seems to be
No difference
No difference at all
You remain cold
With lichen crackling at your feet
Even when I bring ocean breezes
Even when I bring the sun
Even when I’m ready to start a fire
You refuse, then refuse again
As if I was little more than a piece…
No, not just a useless piece but
a huge, whole overwhelming pile of rat infested, fly swollen, buzzard supporting trash
waiting for the clean-up crew
waiting for the truck
that will hold me and hug me and love me like I’ve never been loved before
to cart me away
away from you
and the misery you insist is my payment
my just deserts
my reward
and all my sorry’s
and didn’t mean to’s
and I’ll never do it again’s
mean no more than the next wave
or the last wave
or any surfer-riding, eight or nine or twelve foot wave
no more than the sand you walk on
or even the sand in your shoes
I didn’t want it to get to this point
But this is all I have left to say,
“              .                ”

All I Have Left