Playing Sobriety
I used to think the long smoke filled tables of NA were the answer.
The stalks of faces nodding with my inflection, up up down downs left left right.
Like a goddamn contra code.
Happiness charted in days, two years glowed clichés rolled.
Waning white key tag applause.
I bolted before they found out I burned on the way in…
rolled straight to the methadone clinic. Grown men in in ankle length shorts and sideways hats, Whining………….clean??
I even tried to buy a few weeks out of the trunk of an Oldsmobile… wafers or sick pills, my choice…
stared deep into the eyes of socially acceptable at a scientology rehab.. Mingled with cruise and Katie Holmes, then got the boot for hoarding gasoline..
Impatient in eastern Pa, courtesy of the Canadian national railroad. I sat circled breathing from garbage bags of Freon. Sneaking from a mandated meeting to the Reeding open market clutching everyone’s night in my wallet..
I’ve never been here before though alone without prospects, no subs nada nothing…
I am all feelings now and I know
I “m still trapped inside of her, screw you sarah, your abstract cards,
7 th grade year book pictures locked together, from your mind to my stalled heart.
. I wanna run back to dark rooms your ashy cotton tongue kisses..
I need someone to water down my vodka. Ash my burning cigarette..
, Hug me.dammit. Lie to me through late night emails.. Your still speeding through, drowning in Pabst. I’m stuck my mind still sears you picture Short waves of blonde always searching for a quiet mole behind the right eye. I’m scared I’ll never feel it again. Waves of breath stolen from a line. You will always be exalted.
Work is good, but everything is missing. No rush, no rocket of feeling when I touch someone. No raised hairs from a shoulder squeeze. I can’t even find a mind to throw venom at my writing. Attacking my inability to move forward.
I must be Too sober now craving your extended leg and swinging dolce bag…
Copyright © Dave Streett | Year Posted 2013
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