Just About Dark

Lilies & Onions

When I was a child 

I felt so bad for Jesus

it made me cry

walking home from school

imagining his crucifixion 

wondering if He loved me

as much as I loved dogs

I gave up my dream

of being an astronaut veterinarian

and chose preacher man instead

a foreign missionary 

spreading the faith

in far and distant lands

But by the time 

I finally stood behind a pulpit

a young man surrounded by lilies

I didn’t believe anymore

and read the eulogy 

for my brother

with words about the abyss

and choices made 

with dark hearts full of fear

there were more words

a poem by Neruda

and a song 

then we sat outside 

first baptist church

and all I remember 

was how hot it was

for late November

After Jeff died

I grew to mistrust 

facts 

began to avoid contact

with everyone

packed up and moved

everything I could

into a whiskey jug 

where there wasn’t any wind

or change of any kind

I stayed there for ten years 

barnacled to the barstool

with a bottle and a book by Dylan Thomas

in any tavern where I was anonymous 

I missed my brother

broken hearted devastated

unable to stop 

raging 

against his dying light

Just another January 8th

driving drunk

with sketchy brakes

through pouring rain

fully out of control

monstrous distortion 

wearing new eyeglasses

looking for a open bar

eventually blacked out

in the back booth far from home 

mumbling about my rusted bumper

crusty with bloody handprints

signaling the murderous conviction

I was going to kill someone

soon

and the choice was mine to make alone

Three years since that night

scavenged  mantras still working

slapped together from scraps of sense

it is my responsibility not to kill anybody

including myself

Still stalking clarity 

ignoring every opportunity

to stay the same

finding my way 

by going where 

I have to go. 

Smiling with the tourists

in the market tent shade 

bagging up green beans and onions

shaking off the dirt

making change and conversation

I know tonight in desperation

someone will unscrew the cap

embrace the low grade suicide but

it won’t be me.