Friday, November 14, 2008

the last time

You surprised me when
you came out of the bar
that day, half-tanked in
broad daylight, still underage
and unsteady on your feet.

Why you approached me
that day I don’t know
but the fella who followed
you out of the bar
and asked me if
everything was okay, that fella
seemed concerned about
your intentions, though
he could barely see through
the fog of his inebriation.

Why you invited me over
that day I’ll never know, but
I figured you were probably
too far gone to remember
anyway, and my girlfriend
had other plans, and I didn’t
feel safe going there
by myself.

I guess you kept drinking
that day, cuz later I heard
on the street that your cousin
was waiting for me to show up
at your place, he had a knife
he wanted to stick me with
[I don’t know why since I never
spoke a bad word about him
not when people called him
a fag, not even when he broke
into my place, sniffed the solvent
out of the wood filler, then
pawned some things to buy
more filler to sniff. We found
him rolling on the bed that time
wood filler can in his hand
so we patched him up
and sent him on his way.]

It’s too late to patch you up
now, but I hope you found
something good along the way
some sliver of beauty, you know
the way beauty forces itself in
through the crevices
no matter how cruel the cage
we build around ourselves.

Rachel Westfall
November 14, 2008

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