I long to be just like one of them,
Those few amazing people
Who when faced with the darkest night
Can still see a light
In the distance though impossibly
Dim
I yearn to, like them, believe
That though my eyes be blind
I can somehow know there is a light
Even in the blackest night
And in that knowing
See
Pops 2014
At 2am, sleep is like a stranger
I see on a street in my hometown
I recognize her face
But before I can ask where I know her from
She darts across the lanes of traffic
Around a corner
And disappears
The cars speed by
Blocking my path
And through the side windows
As they pass I see
An old friend
Charlie Sheen
A guy from work I need to talk to
The cars keep moving
And the light never changes
The countdown - 25, 24, 23, 25, 24, 23
I step out anyway
And the road is sticky
My shoes barely move
And the cars keep coming
Each one with a familiar occupant
A homeless man I saw yesterday
My grandkids
My daughter's boyfriend
Two nuns with a Buddhist monk
Lao Tzu and Robin Williams
A guy from work I need to talk to
He must be circling the block
The parade of cars keeps coming
I see a slight break in the traffic
So I sprint across the street in pursuit
But when I round the corner
I'm in my back yard
With weeds that need pulling
I step into my house through the back door
And see the cabinets that need painting
And my laptop
With the emails that need answering
There's a knock on the front door
The dog barks
He hears a noise in the night
I realize I've been dreaming
With my eyes open to the darkness
It's 2:12am
Twelve minutes passed
Like cars on a country road
And in the distance
I see her hitch hiking
Brake lights glare, hurting my eyes
Sleep gets in the back seat
And the car speeds off
Into the night
As I stand along the road
Waiting in the dark
For the first light of morning
Pops 2014
That feeling,
no it's more than that
and less,
that sense of being
when you sit on the edge,
darkness, cliffs, sanity,
no matter how funny,
intelligent,
likeable,
charming,
responsible,
sober you are
nothing fills you
but a desire
to see nothing more
and nothing less
than what you have already seen
and the flood of emotion,
that drought of love in a perfect storm
makes you take a step
into, off of, past
where you hope to feel,
no it's more than that,
and less,
you hope to be
different.
Pops, 2014