Wasted

Wasted

He knew it was coming and it had to happen eventually, but that didn’t mean he would be ready for it. Darren wasn’t in love with Josie anymore, but it didn’t take much to pulse those powerful affections for her through his heart. It physically hurt to breathe when he saw Josie arrive to the convention with a tall, handsome gentleman at her side. 

Her companion was very good looking, but with a forgettable face in Darren’s opinion. He was close to 6 feet tall and wore a green polo and khaki shorts. He looked like the type who would wear a strap with his sunglasses on a boat, holding a beer in one hand with the other on the steering wheel. The thing that stood out to Darren most, and probably everyone else, was the look the guy had on his face when Josie smiled or laughed. Darren flinched because he knew he’d had the same look whenever she smiled or laughed in his direction.

It was a powerful, lighthouse smile that beamed with years of collective love for life and all of its little moments. It was a wild, flirtatious laugh that kissed the air and stole its breath. It made you want to laugh too, but very quietly, so you could watch her joy unfold. It made you lose yourself in your love for the beautiful, bright-eyed Josie Faulkner.

And lose himself, Josie’s new boyfriend did. He was clearly out of his element, here attending this nerds and comic books convention, but he was so at home with being with Josie. He watched her bounce from booth to booth, greeting friends and acquaintances, like a bee buzzing from flower to flower. He would snap out of his enraptured daze whenever Josie introduced him to a friend, but otherwise he watched her like a golden retriever marveling at his owner.

There came the point when Darren couldn’t be avoided anymore. 

“Hi Darren,” Josie’s smile flickered like a candle in a room where the door just slammed shut. Darren glanced at her and tried not to see her. He tried not to see the girl he had declared love for almost instantly on their first date. When he held her for the first time. When he kissed her and laid her down upon his sheets, losing himself in the folds.

He saw it all. 

“Hi, I’m Darren,” he said, offering a handshake. “You are?” A firm, calloused hand met his own.

“James, nice to meet you,” he said. What a basic name.

“James is on my Sunday co-ed volleyball team,” Josie said.

“Oh yeah, I thought I recognized you,” Darren said. “How’s the season going?”

He didn’t really care.

“We’re 3-0, so pretty good,” James palmed the question away. He could sense he had somehow won a battle against this Darren guy by simply having shown up with Josie. As if presented a trophy, he pulled Josie to his side by her arm. “I’m going to get something from the food truck outside. Want anything?”

“You go ahead, I’ll be right there,” Josie said, smiling. James returned the smile and nodded. He walked off as Josie turned to Darren. “I hope you’re doing well, Darren.”

Darren replied with an icy smile, but melted when he saw her soft lips bleed from the bite.

“I know you’re not trying to be heartless,” he said, softly. “You just have to understand it’s hard for me to see you with another man.”

“I do understand, but I didn’t want you to think I was going to baby your feelings,” Josie replied, her words like a firm handshake.

“Don’t worry about me,” Darren shook back automatically. “I’m fine.”

That’s when a rather tipsy Cameron Schumer fell backwards onto Josie, and Darren’s coffee painted her neck and chest dark brown.

“Oh my God!” Josie exclaimed. 

“Bae, are you OK?” Darren reached for her. 

Josie stopped wiping herself to stare into Darren’s eyes, channeling the memories between them. Her eyes froze time in their dark depths.

“Baby, what happened?” James arrived, handing Josie whatever napkins he had. 

“Just an accident,” Josie replied. 

“It was my fault,” Cameron stuttered.

“It’s OK, thankfully the coffee wasn’t hot anymore,” Josie laughed gracefully, mopping up her neck and arms. “What a waste, it smelled delicious.” She winked at Darren, flipping the switch on her emotions. “James, would you mind terribly if we head out so I can clean up? My dress might stain if I don’t soak it soon.” 

“Of course, let’s go,” he said, sweeping her arm with his. He glanced downwards at Darren and Cameron. “Nice to meet you.”

Darren nodded back, numb once more.

He went to sit outside in the courtyard, where the food trucks were running loudly and feeding scattered pairs of hungry convention goers. A few dressed up girls were twittering around each other, the colorful fabrics of their costumes bounced when they spoke like delicate lace wings. Darren caught their words over the blurred buzz of the food truck engines.

“Wasn’t that Josie Faulkner?”

“Who was she with?”

“Wasn’t she with Darren at some point?”

“Long time ago.”

“Couldn’t have been that long ago”

 “They were friends.”

“I bet he was in love with her.”

 “Did you see that guy she was with?”

“What a hottie.”

 “She makes me feel like I’m missing something from life.”

“Oh stop it, you’re gorgeous too!”

Darren let the rest of the gossip flutter into the groan of the courtyard. He sat there and stared into his nearly empty cup of spilled coffee. What a waste.

The Adult Tree

You’re catching me at my worst
and you’re the best I’ve seen in a while.
I’m going through what feels like a second puberty,
sprouting growth in all the wrong places, and the skin is darkening under my eyes.
My moods aren’t consistent and I can’t even blame it on an internal cycle.

Especially when you’ve got me on my back, my hair spread across the pillow,
your beautiful blue eyes staring into my iced coffee gaze.
like being wide awake in a dream and I keep sipping anyway.
I’m wide awake in a stream of thought, and I see it melting away.

If we quit this tomorrow, declare we’re upon a broken bridge,
I’d understand, and that’s the worst part.
It’s been an out of body experience, watching me speak to you,
‘Dear God, that’s not me!’
My confidence shaken like the legs of a newborn giraffe.
And I hate feeling so disconnected and scared that everyone can see.

The doctor said he wondered about the places we’d go,
but no one ever talks about the growing pains in our shins
and the stretch marks on our egos.
As I start counting new wrinkles on my forehead from relentless pondering,
will the light of my young hopes dim in the distance behind me?

Zombie!!

Nambi 

Stop

Drop

To the floor

You let out a roar

A sound you never heard come out from your mouth ever before

A monster from its cage

But it’s not full of rage

It’s full of fear

It used to hide under your bed

Whenever you woke with the sheets a little wet. 

Cold sweat. 

Fear. 

Shaking in front of the class

Their faces are suddenly strangers

You know all about danger

You can’t laugh in the face of,

Criticism is too abrasive.

And your self doubt is abusive

Make it stop.

Drop. 

To the floor.

One more rep. 

One more step.

Your heart 

Can it take anymore.

Have you ever seen failure at your front door?

The opening line in an email

We regret to inform you that you fail

To meet our standards for this role.

So you push forth and go

Back to what you know 

Your name

Your phone

Were you actually any good?

Your address home

Should I even bother with applying?

When I interview, can they tell I’m lying?

This is the only place I want to work

Since I was a child my dream was

To be a front desk clerk

Making enough to scrape by.

Introducing myself a hundred times.

Daily.

Pay me.

Clock me out.

Knock me out. 

Take my dreams and push me until I

Drop. 

Housekeeping

Wake up in bed and found something new

something new and introduced to you

Was only one toothbrush on the counter

Next to the toothpaste with the cap on. 

And the floor with no clothes on it

Because you spend your newfound free time

Cleaning up your place

But you all found was all this new space

Where she used to lie with you in bed

And you would lie with your chin to the top of her head.

Til she decided you weren’t right

For the life she wanted, you asked what type.

So she went and carved you out with a knife-

Like precision, and made that decision all on her own, inconsiderate of the thought that it affects two and leaves a mark on your heart like a tattoo.

It’ll take years to fade and some will ask about it, where did you get it, and did it hurt.

You’ll act tough, and with an etch-a-sketch smirk gently flirt back, 

But in the back of your mind,

You know you’ll still find

A picture of her smile and grace,

And her reaction when you surprised her on her birthday, that face. 

Never able to truly hate her,

You’ll never emotionally stop dating her.

She belongs from March last year to this year’s November.

Well. 

At least your apartment is clean.

Inspired by "Underdressed" by Verite

Take me to the roof

I’ll just need a little push.

It’s pretty much what you’ve already done

Driving me to the edge of my mind

Where I feel naked and scared

Dropped in the middle of the woods

Feeling the ants crawling on my chestticks hiding under the skin on my shoulders.

Leaving pinpricks of blood on my bed

Small reminders of bad nights ending

With period shaming under the fitted sheets

stain the mattress, which I’ll keep for at least another 

1-2-3

Maybe 4-5-6 years 

Knowing my lazy ass.

Watching it get heavier while I watch my own weight,

Feeling heavier and further from heavenly.

Pinpointing the bluffs and mistakes on my body,

Like this is from not running on Tuesday

And this is from eating a cookie from the break room.

And tomorrow this bruise will be from drinking too much

And meeting you and telling you I think you’re kind of cute, and maybe we can also telephonically connect, here are my numbers.

6-5-4

3-2-1

0 

Chances 

that this will end well.

Target acquired. The eagle is landing.

And I’m zeroed and honed in on

Staring down at the streets below.

My self esteem as dim and small as the cars at my toes.

1-2-3

Here 

I

Go.

When he doesn’t call back

High School Reunion

I’m going to start this in a little cliche way

With a fuck you and have a nice day.

Because I’m a little sick of this story

Even though you’ll find it boring

Because I’m pretty sure you’ve done this same thing before, repeated history.

But fck it, I’ll tell it anyway.

We met when we got some drinks with some friends.

And we didn’t really tell them about us til the end.

Probably because they would’ve known we were a bad fit.

The only time we were a good fit was when we were doing it.

If anything we fought way more than we talked.

Even if that fighting was all in my head.

I couldn’t tell you anything except "A little to the left!" in bed.

But my mouth would be busy touching your things

And I’d wonder in my head if this was just a fling.

I never did get you to verify

So I pretended my soul was made of ice.

I think we said goodbye

but we did so very nicely.

In retrospect it was all kinds of fucked up.

You acted like a man with his shit tucked up.

While I was busy away getting my face mucked up.

You were getting your ego and balls sucked up.

Honestly I have no reason to hold anything against you.

It was fair game and we played it all by the rules. 

It sucks this engagement came with enragement, 

But honestly, it was an instructive arrangement. Thanks God.

Well good luck to you dude,

If we pass in the streets, let’s be rude. 

Lets ignore each other’s faces

And avoid our familiar places.

We never happened.

This shit didn’t happen.

What was I about to say?

Oh yeah. 

Fuck you and have a nice day. 

Marriage Counseling

The chaplain told me to picture myself
at the top of a mountain.

Picture myself on a scouting mission
taking notes on the required distance to travel,
and pencil in the margins of the map
all the shadows of self-doubt
for I would be assigned to also carry out the objectives.

He asked me to remember praying
for every step to bring me
from one cluster of wildflowers to the next.
Clump after clump of purple floral weeds line the path
like a hero's farewell parade.

But the cheers trickle away
while I scale up towards the stars
so far ahead
I cannot hear their whispers.
Their judgmental stares
are my closest companion
because up here,
I am alone.

A loan from the people below,
payment of self-sacrifice to the Gods.
For we've been informed that they don't want too many people
knocking on heaven's doors,
so my friends and family stay behind.

The chaplain told me to picture knocking on God's door,
like some fiercely independent Girl Scout,
banging her knuckles on the door,
"Look, God, look what I can do!"

He wanted me to picture being alone
so I'd want to keep you in my life.