Poetic Fall
/The alarm clock went
off before I could hit snooze.
New Found Glory’s The Worst Person
shook me out of a slumber.
I’d been this way since last September.
And it’s a month away from this September.
Autumn’s consumed me with poetry written
on the skyline of a tempered horizon.
I’m a ghost to the noise, all of it,
everything Lacy ever had to say to me,
especially when another dropped call
clawed at my self-esteem.
Can you hear me now?
I pushed my fury
through the silence.
What about now?
I wish Lacy could hear me now.
Because right about now,
I had enough of trying to change.
I was who I am, still today as is ever unchanged.
I called my boss, blinking stings
of blurry eyes, exacerbated by
Lacy’s late-night goodbye.
Lacy had people to see, you see,
and places to visit: places like Carolina
where her old flame resides.
I got the hint, took a mental picture
of what we had and told her to take
the keys, and even the car.
I told her to take care.
I bit my tongue and didn’t beg
her not to leave because
it’d kill me to sabotage her dreams
made in a field of waist-high grass,
much greener on the other side
of a dust bowl of a sleepy town.
I moved to the living room window.
Lacy packed what little she had
and tossed her bags into the trunk
of her remodeled purple ‘67 Chevelle SS.
Any and all things in her life had to be purple,
but to me, they were black or white.
Lacy said that should she return,
it’d start with a purple towel.
Lacy twisted around and lived her gaze,
her eyes were as blue as ever,
to the second floor;
she tucked long, dark bangs behind her ear,
and gave me a neutral smile.
Neither of us waved at the other.
She started the car, turned on her lights,
that faded as she trailed down
the narrow gravel driveway,
and turned left onto the highway
to pass fields of pasture blended
into evergreen trees.
I sipped iced water and smoked
a cigarette.
I went on with my life
as though I hadn’t died
inside.
My boss gave me the day off.
Having your dad as a boss had its perks.
The rays weakened their rays for the day, and thick, dark clouds approached for an afternoon shower.
I took a shower and dried off with a purple towel.
I stopped, and a grin tugged at the corner of my mouth.
“Looking for someone?” Lacy said, naked, to travel routes left off the map.
I moved but tripped over embarrassment.
Lacy laughed. “I still make you weak.”
“I should have told you this,” I said.
“Told me what, tough guy?” Lacy winked.
“That I love you.”
“I’m guessing things didn’t work out back East?”
“There you go guessing again,” she said. “And I love you too.”
“Jason wasn’t my ex,” she said. “He was my brother.”
“You…”
“No,” she motioned, “I wasn’t with my brother.”
I narrowed one eye and waved a finger. “He was your brother?”
“People always teased him growing up.” Lacy’s eyes dampened. “I had to protect him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I said, hugging her.
“He’s dead,” she whispered with a release of crushing tension.
I moved my head and looked at her. “Dead?”
“He died in his sleep.” Lacy sobbed in my arms. “I wasn’t there when he died. Something about a heart condition.”
“I guess you never know when it’s your time to go,” I said. “So, you were with your parents?”
“God, no,” she said. “I did what Jason had always wanted to do. He wanted to go on a road trip. Just anywhere. It didn’t matter where.”
She laid her head on my chest.
“When we were kids, Dad unfolded a map, told us to close our eyes and put our finger on the page.”
“I spent time in California, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before I traveled back to your heart.”
We held each other without going anywhere.
By Andy Cooper
From: United States
Twitter: AC0040