Beyond My Window

Playback

If I had a TiVo for my mind,
you’d probably press “pause”
and “rewind,” and watch all the words
tripping over my tongue at a
more convenient time.

If my life were a video game,
you would likely say it was
lame, and tell me to sell it on ebay
while you shot at “Mother Brain.”

But what do I care if you dote
or won’t, and who cares if you
don’t like my show, cause
if we were ever to co-star,
you’d probably hog the remote.

There was a time every sunrise
brought promise, and the sunset
a tucking-in, snug and warm

compact and satisfying,
like a freshly-wrapped burrito
filled with all the fixings,

except covered in a red,
slightly tattered quilted blanket
instead of a flour tortilla

the always elusive monsters fled
out from under the bed, at the smack
of mom’s magic kisses.

But lately I can’t stop shivering,
no matter how many layers of blankets
I burrow beneath

the eye of the winter storm glares
out from inside my mind, burning a hole
in my temple, letting in all the cold air,

the monsters wear parkas and snow boots,
but I’m caught making snow angels in
only my slippers and robe,

I struggle at daylight with brain freeze,
throbbing bruises formed from sharp,
broken icicles, longing to be mom kissed.

Never really left
home base
that untouchable,
unforgiving place
all at once safe,
yet broken

the pieces never
quite fit
like they did
at first spark, but
I keep trying to put
them back together

Sitting in a dark room
thinking,
just a fragment
of a feeling

pillar candle melting
slowly,
only human,
what a joke,

just a fragment
rough with edges,
jagged edges
scratching deep

jagged picture
heavy breathing,
inhale deeply,
empty clinking.