Lying in bed with my eyes half-open
the night at the emergency
was no Saturday night party
still surrounded my painful souls
swaying from one body part to another
read one-hundred and seventy four pages
of the book I told him about
couldn’t finish that horrible trashy romance
atrocious writing and the romance was a baseball game
but my mom sat next to me
between chapters
reminisced my childhood
and I remembered the reasons I love the way I do
everything seems clearer with no sleep
pain
at four in the morning.
So we barked about medicare
but thanked the doctor as if he was God
and my mom said
this country has gone to shits
we never waited nine hours to see a doctor
(and I was not alone).
Yet how that smell makes you feel
like you are so fucking alone
and young Chinese doctors
holding my future
as I lie naked
staring at my mom
as if I was five again.
Then we giggled
because I told her the onion story.
When the pain from inside manifests
and you don’t care if your poems rhyme
or if they are truly poems
or confessions
beautiful lies Charles calls them
and I REread that line
a few too many times.
At least I have fifty cents
for a phone call
being off the grid
and watching my phone and tears
land in the bathtub
was not a highlight.
I think that Charles and my mom
were quite the audience
to my fall.
Sometimes the people
that you think
love you the most
turn out to love you one eighth of their own capability
their love has all these limits
like kilometres or milage
or distances
on a highway.
I speed too much
I love too much
I get speeding tickets
other people follow
while I’m on the verge of losing my license.
As I fall asleep on my mom’s shoulder
you creep into my thoughts
don’t be so surprised
for you never give up (like the rest).
When you find your way in
bring a candle
to the empty table
there is no electricity
old fashioned virgin love
(Not like the rest).
I am not fully ready to empty out the pockets of my soul.
I just feel different.
You must know.