Breakable Contents

happy birthday

My dad had a brother that no one talks about anymore

He has another sibling though,

So that one compensates for the space

At least that's the only thing that keeps my mind from

Constantly dwelling on the fact

That everyone is afraid of something unfinished.

On the porch swings at my grandfather's house

Someone is looking at a portrait inside

Of the young boy that looks like his father

The picture frame is old and worn

So they search for a more recent photo

Conversation shifts to the meal and I find another

Clover by the empty bricks

Love is not always interpersonal,

An unavoidable oxymoron

You can fall in love with things that don't breathe

Or have spines.

As he held hands with the tree trunk skeletons

And told them of all the things

He was to be,

Took his bookshelves with him

To his first dance, so he didn't have to show up alone

He had his first kiss at 23

With the gray revolver that sat in my grandfathers

Basement

where you should not keep things that can

hurt other things

because when you are

alone in a dark room you tend to do what you

have to to get out

The only reason I knew what had happened

Was because on his birthday my dad told a story

About a boy with blue eyes and dark hair

That lived inside of a music store

Where the walls were line with rows of

Old CDs people came to look at when they were lonely

And it was open all night, because he never left

My dad took me to that music store

Only it was a grave yard,

Where happy birthdays were supposed to

Rattle through coffins like lonely concerts

And the admission fee was a little too much

This time