July 11, 2023Poem

Onward and upward.

griefcitypoliticsmemorytimeidentity

Onward and upward.

Way back,

When I was still young enough

To think about the future

Over a glass of scotch

I remember killing a cockroach

Walking across the table,

He had walked down the wall

Thinking he was invisible,

Indian restaurants all had flock

Wallpaper as go-to decor

Back in those early days,

They employ designers now

To highlight modern Indian cuisine,

With an Anglo twist,

If he hadn’t tried to make it to the plate

He would still be alive.

We didn’t eat there again.

I remember how you laughed

Whenever the mood took you

Deep and throaty

Without artifice

Addictive

It could bring a room down to its knees

Barely able to hold onto their pants

Grateful for a strong constitution.

You knew how to be

When I was barely distinguishable

From the background

Until you painted in my eyes.

I mislaid them again,

As if they were disposable.

There has been little need for them

In recent days,

Sitting in the grey

I think of you

Not because there are still cockroaches

In need of attention

Big ones

Flying things

With “I really dare you” eyes

Nobody would want to find them in an underwear drawer

Or between the sheets

There are enough people like that

I reckon,

But the future was better back then.

The present has little to commend it

Other than as a precursor

To the coming of another day,

Scotch tasted better when there was a reason

To drink it.

Before you left

And it has been a while now,

I could laugh at the little things

Now I am barely amused,

As grimly purposeful as Victoria

But with more secrets to hold.

If truth be told

And it rarely is when sober,

Loose lips sink ships

Or so they say.

I am grateful for what we had

But I would be a damn sight more grateful

If I could wake up with you

Next to me every day

Instead of a blank space where

My life used to be.