One two footed toward the hill top somewhere
around high noon and where
the sweat is coming up through my palms,
pushing skin away
into blisters staved
by cold water
last night when I held the pan until I cried
bloody murder.
Trying to forget mistakes,
the sting is familiar for its name and I wish
I waited a little longer to eat or at least
understood the food would still be good
a little charred.
One two timing it in four count and
crying for the view,
the view, the fucking view.
"Get there for me"
I tell myself
skip hopping over brush climbing
through sidewalks rarely walked and the trees
are breaking away,
but my lungs are too. I don't cough up blood
most days. Today is not like most.
I can count on two hands
the number of times I've cried
most years. This year is no different.
I am feeling in four cross four music
my limitations. The sky will not break
ahead of my engine. My engine is broken
before the sky.
I am not afraid, but today
I am human and it will be
a long walk home
to feed the ducks by the sand hugged river below.
Today, the Earth. Tomorrow, the blue sky.
Some day, the stars. I know better. It is not that glorious.
Another hamburger hill
in another war
no one will read about
