after a brief reinternment due to pushing too far too fast

chapter title in my life story

a quick iv bag and fresh script of pain alleviators

angry stares and disbelief

nurses and doctors and a general sense of disapproval

basically dropped off the kids and went straight to the hospital

so when they say take a week for recovery

and you assume that means two days

maybe they know what they are talking about

maybe

two steps forward

two miles back

in my regression i have circles the starting point

multiple concentric circles

like saturn’s rings

all showing the deviation from normal, dedicated human to listless floating molecules of alternating atomic weights

isotopical conversations with half lives equivalent to the attention span of hummingbirds

airing grievances and dirty secrets

drugged to the gills and shouting to the heavens for one more shot at domination

which is relegated to bedroom fantasy and buzz words on the news

another day another disasater

so as i sit and watch the universe spin

guts feel like fire

just empty and filled with remorse

final choir event of the school year this evening

not enough numbing agents to keep me moving

i see a squat man with a vase of flowers ambling down the road

the blooms at the edge of opening

a hint of purples and blues at the edge of green

his rolling gait

water sloshing over the edge

his jerky movements

like someone who thinks they are muscular but are really just trying to keep the jiggle down through rigid control

and as he knocks on the door

flowers in hand

he steps back from the inward swinging door

like out of surprise

and the as he moves back the vase slips from his grasp

and as i watch her watching him watch the vase in shutter speed journey to the ground

where it lands

perfectly

a ring of water splashing the concrete

he burns crimson in embarrassment

she leans down and lifts the vase

but the bottom stays firmly on terra cotta

and as she lifts the now useless glass sheathe up

the water and lovely promises of spring joy tumble down the stairs

chaos

i see myself in his inevitable failure

in the broken vase that held the appearance of keeping it together

and the flower that comes to rest under the tire of the truck that just pulled in

just a comedy of errors and best intentions

ultimately resigned to the footnotes of history

the words, he tried, etched in stone

just eat another pill and hope the world stops throbbing

or lie next to that plant

it isn’t suicidal

it is succumbing to the natural order

it is allowing fate to string you up and drag you along

it is me quietly reaffirming to the entropy inherent in this repeated lesson of loss

enough

it is enough already

and a flashback

i made a girl dinner for the first time when i was sixteen

made chicken pot pie

a roux

into filling

crust from scratch

she came

i victoriously placed it to cool on the chest freezer

she was impressed

and as we exchanged a hug of greeting

it slid off the freezer and in that same speed i watched it hit the floor and go everywhere

my pot pie was his flowers

in the end

empty gestures to satiate and end in wallowing defeat

meaningless attempts

in summation

the best intentions lead to the folly of indescribable remorse

she took a bite of the food and said it was delicious as i burned like a light outside a whore house

just as she picked up a bloom and touched his shoulder

a funny story for the next date

the next interest

maybe two more pills and a nap

what was her name

the petite brunette with the smile that lit my heart’s fuse

wonder if she remembers that day ever

or the boy playing man to earn her affections

doubtful

as memorable to the doctor that removed part of my guts and left me with three new incisions and another week of misery

i am a phantom

haunting my own life

a window with a view

and tales from a life ago

hazy recollections

and names on the tip of my tongue

tired of trying to find that missing piece

and losing more everyday

until nothing remains but a frail empty vessel

and the rapidly drying rings of a life unremarkable in every way

a pebble in the riverbed

leaving ripples no one will ever see

as i sink to settle with the other discarded relics of life not lived