time traveling
time traveling
I talked
so much about poetry
that you didn’t see me
spill half my beer on my shirt sleeve,
a shuffleboard table
and your arm
against mine,
do you remember
that light
in the coffee shop
when you took the picture
of what would become
the next 8 months your life?
Fast forward through
a few more,
rewind back to one
that we should do over again
and
how long has it been?
Sixty seconds
for a hand
to make its trip
around the moon,
but how long
would it take
for me to remember every date
I’ve had with you?
Compartmentalization
is a great way
to never be fully whole,
a Holiday season:
Thanksgiving
and work in between until Christmas;
to have a piece of pie
is to take a place on the chart,
life subdivided by time,
days delegated
to people, places, things,
but if each one stands independently on the calendar
today
doesn’t connect with tomorrow
or yesterday.
I’ll bite my lip
when I think about our trip downtown
and the homemade outside gym,
two dumbbell weights
from my house to the car,
but as I carried them
to the Grant Park grass
they weren't as heavy
as my heart
trying to receive your jumpstart.
Go back to when
this all first began,
how much of your history
was built into our starting line,
the sound of a starter’s pistol
and BAM!
An eight hour drive,
a movie in theaters,
“I’ll see you next weekend.”
A man full of dreams
is what you’re attracted to,
but if I never wake up
will that become a nightmare
to you?
It’s as if
I’ve been here before,
“They don’t allow cameras in this park.”
“Why?” you asked.
“I think that it’s because,” I said.
“They don’t want us to record
how much things change.”
A lapse in judgement
to believe
that I could have you
and still stay the same old me,
experiments
are about a hypothesis,
place two things together
in the proper environment
and they become one,
“Want to talk about it?”
“That means,” I say.
“I’ll have to admit something.”
“What do you mean?”
“I still limp a bit,
when I’m on my own.”