I wake up tired and sore
and often soaked in sweat
I don’t remember being awake
or any dreams I may have had
but I’m usually more tired
then when I went to sleep
They say it takes
ten years
and four rheumatologists
to get a proper diagnosis
it’s been twenty
and five
but who’s counting
when I open my eyes
I realize I can’t open my mouth
without pain in my jaw
What else could cause this
other than a punch?
The doctors take my blood
and shrug their shoulders
I’d shrug my shoulders too
but it hurts when I try
My legs are so sore
I feel as if I was chasing
or being chased
My knuckles are swollen
and it hurts to bend my fingers
they offer pills that don’t work
that make me more tired
when I’m barely functioning
There is one logical conclusion
that really holds no logic at all
but it gets me through the day
After I close my eyes to sleep
I fight crime
or aliens
or masterminded villains
Slip into another dimension where
I must be a goddamn superhero
More Batman than Superman
I doubt the man of steel wakes up sore
plus, I hope I can’t fly
If I can fly
but don’t remember it
that’s some royal bullshit
It’s nice to know
when I close my eyes
I’m destined to hand out
some vigilant justice
makes the struggle
a little bit more rewarding
*sidenote*
Considering, I wake every morning feeling as if I got my ass kicked, a friend points out there is a good possibility I’m the villain.
Sadly
There’s logic here
By candlelight
The wind stole out the light
we pull the curtains to invite in
the last of gray daylight
we three wife, daughter and me
play Rummy by candlelight
Christmas Wish Christmas at the Beach
Aromatic Evergreen infused with Orange
You Had Me at Merlot
candles placed throughout the living room
my daughter says it smells like puke in here
the game ends quickly they go to bed
notebook on the table pen in hand
I watch the candle wicks flicker
You Had Me at Merlot cavorts spasmodically
the flame moves swishes
as if outside caught in the damaging winds
I was caught once in a wind that stood still
on a train bridge with a friend
a train traveling south displaced us
to the northbound tracks
until a northbound train captured that space
Twelve to fifteen feet between both trains
traveling at a good clip
The swirled wind made visible
by t-shirts and hair dancing
we felt nothing heard no sounds
all sensation caught in a vacuum
senses trapped twisted
to feel the sound but not hear it
see the wind but not feel it
I bounced a fist-sized stone
off the side of a boxcar
Its silent voice echoed through us
our faces twisted in surprise and laughter
The wind outside is loud frightening
and stole the light
The candle flame dances and moves
to a soundless music
Rabbit
the Rose of Sharon blooms
closed shop for the night
pink rolled-up tootsie rolls
tonight every night
You emerge from beneath its branches
as my feet leave the pavement
as they lick the damp grass
You emerge repudiating instinct
to scurry the sensible choice
of your brethren your species
In life you were a lion
but a lion couldn’t live
beneath the branches
of an overgrown
Rose of Sharon
A lion would frighten a boy
slightly fearful of the dark
fearful of the life without
his father
I know it’s you
I know it’s you
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