the past

Without

Standard

“Where does the time go?”

You’ve always known.

Your back was just towards it.

Admiring the liminal space,

between point A and point B –

I restate the obvious:

all the things I’ve scattered to the wind,

have blown away.

Tears stream down my face,

at the sight of all this spilled milk.

Irretrievable–

fading, flickering memories melt

as the days go by,

at best,

that’s all we’ve got.

So many times, I’ve gotten exactly what I wanted

and it was the worst thing that could have happened.

So many times have I parted ways with something I swore I couldn’t live without,

somehow I got by just fine.

The past is gone, and the present is a terrible time

to waste backtracking.

You Will get Away With it

Standard

Every so often,

I hear the doorbell ring,

When I’m not expecting company.

Sometimes,

I look through the peep hole,

And see nothing at all,

“Damn kids,”

I’ll say,

Presumptively.

Sometimes,

It’s just the mailman,

So I sign for something,

Then he’s on his merry way.

But once in a while,

It’s you,

“Come on in,”

I say.

“Take a seat,”

I’ll go get some drinks,

And snacks.

We relax,

Tell some stories,

To fill in the gaps,

“It’s been too long,” you say.

I know it has,

“But I cannot stay,”

I also know that,

“Take your time,”

Glad I could give you,

Some of mine.

When you stand up, 

With your arm,

Half in your jacket,

I ask nothing more of you.

When there’s nothing left to say,

All I want,

Is to be sure,

For now,

That you’re doing okay.