Insomnia

I.

I had no interest in that country, but I went

All the same. The streets I left behind were

Not mine. There was no whisper or mark of

Me. The summer rain washed the tennis courts and

We ran laughing (crying?) back inside not home,

But like it. Not real family but I soon forgot.

Hallow’s Eve in the cemetery. Night. It’s dark.

We are all drunk laughing (crying?). Scared stiff.

And then someone stands up, pulls down his pants

In front of a cherub’s grave. Laughing (sobbing?) mad

He’ll piss on it. Stop asking him to put

On that dress. The adults never were there to care.

We crawled out the window onto the roof

To smoke cigarettes, drink beer or vodka.

We got to choose our poison then. Standing,

In a circle, behind the bushes, under a

Tree, we laughed (angrily?) passing the  

Smoke, from my lungs to your lungs to his lungs.

We were family then. Hallow’s Eve, he didn’t piss.

We told each other nightmares seated, cross-legged

Until the giant with the deep voice came to join

In the drinking games. But he was too loud,

And in our drunkenness (fright?) we scattered in all

Directions. Shouting promises, like always, to meet inside.

II.

We were all from a far away place, each in our

Own right. Each of us a character: unique.

When our supply of alcohol ran dry, someone would walk

Into convenience stores and look around. We would

Follow her, then leave upset, thinking her empty.

But back inside the room, she would make

Magic, pulling out, laughing (crying?) vodka wine,

Whiskey. But sadly never beer.

Her friend had red hair. Her friend had red arms.

We said the right things at the right times.

Someone jumped in front of cars only to be

Held back. Someone hid broken needles upstairs, only

Found after he was gone. He

Left letters in the oddest places. But then Who were

We to judge? We never went to class but somehow

Always passed. We were laughing (crying?) running

Too fast. Looking too much, and too deeply at the world.

These scars run deep from the rails we jumped

Over to get down to the ruins from

That statue that made us pause, but never for long enough.

After all, it Was just a rock! We were always drunk (scared?),

But never quite enough. We smoked too much. We cheated at cards,

Each in our own way and each scowled in time.

III.

We were laughing (shouting?) our way

Through days. Living far too wild but not enough.

We did not dance. I never learned to move

That way. I never did speak on stage either.

We sat together, we cried that way, and

Sometimes we thought we’d die like that. We were

Laughing (quiet?) planning trips back home. To where

We did not know: Someone wanted to see

The Berlin Wall and get lost behind a

Curtain that was already gone. She had a voice

Of a songbird. And when she went dry, she

Said goodbye. We were never sober enough.

We drunkenly (sadly?) stumbled around and somehow that

Was enough then. I ran laughing (sobbing?) through

Those streets and soon saw I was alone. Drunk (confused?) and

Still not sober: bleary eyed, pounding head, not good

Enough even then. No more red arms. No need for

Me then? No more dry eyes. No more of them.

And no, no going back. No, there is still no

Time Machine. No way to find that home again.

No way to say hello in the right way. No time to say goodbye.

We are not those laughing (scared?) drunk (loud?)

Young things lost on the busy streets.

We are not young. Maybe we never were?

IV.

I was drunk (laughing?) running (dying?) on

Those streets. I was going too fast and now can

Only look back with strange eyes on those days when

We laughing (still drunk?) ran on that cobbled road.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s