dmseay

so lonely…

away from you…and you …and you…

all gone…

there was my best man…a friend from youth…a songwriter now pushing booze to Lincoln Park patrons of fine single malts…

gone…

a chef who i cooked with…drank till dawn in dives when Wicker Park was edgy…he too was edgy…put on a helium helmet and told all goodbye…

gone…

mom…yes…her…well…never…

gone…

this Ugandan with a penchant for Bukowski and Tom Wolfe…went through women like a madman in an asylum goes through pills…always in search of the America his family fled to…

gone…

sanity…the ability to reason… plan…now replaced with visions of nothing but words running a gauntlet after midnight on a page next to a twin bed…

gone…

and i have stayed…through mere misses…near deathly departures…round after round after round of drifting along from one city to the next…

i am not gone…i am here…

done…a myth ended…ever exist…hard ‘ta say…hard ta’ say…got somethin’ comin’…don’t count on it…

lou was right…a bus-load of faith is needed… no family…churches… nothing  but sheltered taxes an’ budgets…what’s the bottom line…

an alcoholic’s safehaven  built ‘cross from a liquor store…foodstamps limited…forms are needed…murder always a block away…

and what…the senior class office sought  by two opportunists…two fakes…two salesmen…statesmanship gone…##fuckme…tweet that…

i lie here…under blankets…gunshots heard…in the arms of no-one…no-one…

not even a country…

taking in surroundings of this…this…
a Catholic Church on the corner…taqueria one block over…stained-glass gazed at by two…

porches with homeboys hangin’…alleyways open for business…isn’t everyone…

and girls walk in a dance-like step with ear- buds blazin’…texting in cadence…heads lowered…never coming up for air…we move-on…

transactions behind dumpsters…he goes his way…she…another…no numbers exchanged…just roll one on an’ hope for the best…

yes black lives matter…yes the city melts…yes the scales tip to the rich…yes many go hungry…yes thugs are stupid…yes cops commit crimes…and yes…i am done…done…finally finished…

a Catholic church on a corner…taqueria one block over…

this is where i live…

this is where i live…

i am reminded of Winesburg, Ohio…Miller’s favorite tale…a different America…a different land…this one is foriegn…

yet…it is still a land where autumn is autumn…leaves fade …souls hunger…always…always…

this chill…frozen bones from unrealized dreams…could’ve would’ve should’ve…we never leave home…never…

it is 8:00 in the morning…coffee comforts…so does Whitman…do we seek solace there…of course not…

words no longer suffice…sentences become sound-bites…music…well…music…

i think of Winesburg, Ohio on this fall day…a Midwestern wind of poetry keeping me warm…maybe…one can hope…

winter is coming…

had ’em on the ropes…he couldn’t punch…just staggered like a deer that had been hit…the old man was goin’ down…

where ya’ takin’ that pillow, Pop asked,it stays here…you want a pillow…get it yourself…

fine…

you comin’ back…

sleepin’ at the new place dad…

oh…so you’re not comin’ back tonight…

you need me to…

oh no…I’ll be fine…I guess…

i’m askin’…do you need me back tonight…

I don’t know….maybe….

fine…fine…whatever you want Pop…

don’t do me any favors boy…

what…

you heard me…

right…

an’ give me the keys…

you want these…

give ’em to me…

here…

get outta my way boy…

you’re not gettin’ in that car dad…

you better listen to me…

no…you listen to me you no good mother-fucker…i’ve put-up with your shit…you get in that house right now…

I’m callin’ the police…

you’re not callin’ nothin’….

I will…for not showin’ me respect…

what…that’s not even a misdemeanor you fuck….

you never did love me or your mom….

bingo…bingo…you win the fucking prize…now sit down and shut the fuck up…

think this is easy Pop…you were never easy…arrogance….insecurities…think you’ve accomplished something…

you ungrateful…

right…ungrateful….

I provided for a whole family…

and guess what dad…that’s what fathers do…just as i’ve put life on hold to take care of a guy i can’t stand…why…cause that’s what sons do…

you better change your name boy…don’t deserve mine…

just shut the fuck-up….Dr. said you can’t drive…and i’ve been nice ’bout it…give me the fuckin’ keys you prick…

you ain’t goin’ nowhere boy…

do you want me to be miserable dad…is that what you want…

you ain’t leavin’ this house…

just…stop…stop…

better think boy…

yep…better think…

know who you think you are….

no dad…no i don’t…

think you’re smarter than me…the whole family…

well…

you ain’t nothin but ungrateful…

for what…for what…

you’ll see….you’ll see…

yes…i will see…

the old man still hasn’t gone down…

still get these messages in the middle of the night…

this is your dad…just wonderin’ where you are…call me…

and…i’d pour a whisky…smell cigarettes burned from earlier…listen to the message again…

this is your dad…just wonderin’ where you are…call me…

but…there wouldn’t be a call…took another long drink…wonder myself…wonder myself…

why me…this youngest son who left home early…questioned you again and again and again…found no comfort in a house built…with dollars and cents…dollars and cents…

never an embrace…of love…this was not spoken…guilting demands of respect…no example set…do as told…today’s youth would not understand…

trying to sleep next to my lover…whose body is warm…comforting…i am haunted…

this is your dad…just wonderin’ where you are…call me…

can’t…i simply cannot call…any other man in need would be reached for…assured of safety…but not him…not him…

this is your dad…just wonderin’ where you are…call me…

shhh….shhh…

pour some more…forget of this ghost…

your job is done…

tis done…

such dreams…

big dreams…grandeur…

always thinking…one day…just a stroke away from something…yes…one stroke away…

and you move to this city…a big time joint where rents are high…pedestrians move to a cadence…taxis threaten to kill…landlords own the rights…get in-line…soup lines…assistance lines…movie lines…labor lines…picket lines…forget the voting lines…

the search for you continues… in other cities ’cause that one didn’t work out…nor the other…and certainly not the last…these vagabond shoes do not long to stay…stepping’cross country like Napoleon…burning wheat along the way…no prisoners…no evidence…keep marching…

skip town… books…razors…some old socks… picture of mom…shots of Paris…Bill Evans albums…some Miles too…scratched from the needle…left behind…neatly placed on a rented mattress where bedbugs played hopscotch and boozey broads conversed over bottles at three in the morning under covers as incense burned…

goodbye…goodbye…did this life choose you…or did you choose it…doesn’t matter…doesn’t matter…

because the city is the city is the city….and brothers get killed on the South side of Fort Wayne just as brothers do in Chicago…St. Louis…Cleveland…Jamaica Queens…Compton…The Tenderloin…take your pick…

the city is the city is the city…and a corpse is a corpse is a corpse…

the walls are crumbling…

take cover…

thinkin’ ’bout the time when I was a kid, the old man said…head leaned back to a white wall with framed degrees displayed…

don’t know why I’m thinkin’ of it..

of what pop..

my initiation…ta’ manhood…

manhood…

yea, he grinned,back when that sorta’ thing was done…

took his glasses off…rubbed red eyes… loud cough…always that loud cough with a filthy handkerchief wiping away bile…snot and shit…

we were in this circle…all of us Scouts…no idea of anything…just sittin’ ’round the fire…

yea…

and one by one…three of us were tapped on the shoulder…no words…just a tap to let ya’ know you’d been chosen…

for what…

The Inner Arrow…

the inner arrow…

yep…The Inner Arrow…

so…

I stood there…given nothing but a canteen and some gear…led down to a boat in the dark of the night…only light was a yellow glowin’ moon the devil had put up there…way up high…God don’t make nothin’ like that…

go-on …

they made me row out to this lake…Texahoma…that was the name of it….big lake with islands…hundreds of islands…

voices were heard on the other side…the old man whispered while nurses chatted away…well-wishes given…dr’s. orders…

anyway, pop said, got put on this island for two nights and three days…just me…me and a thousand snakes…Rattlers…Moccasins…Copperheads…you name it …I killed it…

you survived…

became a man…boy…a man…

let me ask ya’…ya’ fight in a war…

did ROTC…

ever come face to face with death…where you could smell it…fucking taste it…know that every night…on any night…

what’re you sayin’ ….

what have you sacrificed…name one thing you’ve sacrificed…

I’m a member of The Inner Arrow …

and i’m a dumb mother-fucker who writes poems…never impressed me pop…never did…

Goddamn you…you don’t know what it means to be in The Inner Arrow…commitment…uh…commitment…

right…what would an artist know about that…

take me home boy…just take me home…

The doctor will see you soon, a blonde nurse said….opening the door…sticking a pretty face in the crack…

when I get you home….

shhhhh….tired pop…i’m tired…let’s get this over with…

you’d think it was a mansion… room with a bed…john down the hall…one man’s treasure…right…

it’d been so long since a Hancock had been put on anything…nothin’ ta’ show…not from this American life…

a mini-fridge and mic sat in a corner…small bookshelf in the other…dreams popped into a floating mind…Dostoyevsky…Miller…Mamet…Kerouac…Rilke(that mad German bastard)…Bukowski…books and books and books would line the walls…his heaven unfolded…

and jazz everynight while a beautiful buxom blonde laughed at jokes…smoked menthols…kisses and wine…kisses and wine…a coffee pot and a typewriter…

i’ll take the place…

it is the constant rush ’round town…get there ‘fore the next guy…

chasing small dreams in a state of awake…

adherence to orders…requirements…rules are to be followed sir…followed…

small details…things must be in order…a way of doing things…

what does it take…

stay cool…do not lose control…you’re on their schedule…get used to it…

and these hoops are jumped through…an abundance of over-politeness…,That your son…What a good lookin’ kid…,a smile… a handshake…

pray and hope…pray and hope…

for what…for what…

another chance…