Hollywood Has Left the Building
Dawn is breaking as I get home from work
(Under paid clerk, always broke)
and the garage smells of cigarette smoke
Gingerly I step over lithe young bodies, sleeping,
limbs slung wide in abandon, random
(I remember Spring, in my December.
I remember...and the envy almost
makes me choke)
My house looks like a homeless shelter
(helter-skelter)
except less organized (improvised)
futons, mattresses, pillows, sheets,
blankets strewn aside (a linen closet suicide)
Innocent faces (showing no traces)
wrinkle free (c'est la vie)
mere hours ago (working, missed the show)
these sleeping babes were
rocking, rolling, tearing up the stage.
And my no-longer-in-residence hero (lost, lost, so great is my loss)
in peace by sleep endowed
has a face that would have made
Michelangelo proud.
Sleep has banished his worries (recessed the jury, diffused the fury)
unleashed the restraint (no more complaints)
sleeping this man-child has
the face of a saint.
In life I learned early:
fight or flight
avoidance or submission (avoidance works best, although a
form of cowardice)
I avoid to protect my heart (already torn apart)
from emotional sabotage.
And when I awaken, he's gone.
All the youth, energy, equipment,
his whole entourage.
Now the house seems hollow (my cowardice swallowed)
another life-experience missed (no one cares enough to be pissed)
afraid my heart would shatter
I avoided the whole matter.
Exhaustion has his dad by the throat,
his role reduced to an anecdote. (why sugar-coat?)
Age has settled in my brain
as I pour Jack Daniels down the drain.
Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2009
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