I Wish Grandma Had Lived Forever

I Wish Grandma Had Lived Forever

I find myself walking down the path that almost wasn't

there, a path that I have made myself.

I am going to my grandmother's snowy tombstone

on Christmas Eve, because she is my only last relative

I have left, everyone else has left me, even if they

are alive.

I find myself walking, contemplating about life,

really, and anything that has been thrown at me

these past years. I am thirteen going on fifty.

All these years I wandered, dark and lonely,

wishing on a star that wasn't there, wasn't present,

wasn't omnipotent.

I know I will never be content as I was when I was a child,

and we lost my pet turtle that one day, Danny, my brother,

hid him in a box and he had climbed out somehow,

or the box had fallen over and he had crawled away.

He apologized to me after the incident, saying he hadn't

expected that to happen, just like I expected Grandma

to live forever.

I'D LIKE TO FIND.

I'D LIKE TO FIND

I'd like to find my way in this place

of peace,

where darkness is not prominent,

and I can see my hand in front of my face.

Shadows are full and daunting.

I am not wanted here.

This world is not mine for the taking;

crows flock the land.

I see myself in ten years, on the verge

of life, on the verge of hysteria,

and I don't know what this is all about...

I don't know what I'm doing this for.

Is it for me? Is it for someone else?

Gladys the mule meets me every day after breakfast

from her stall in the backyard,

and the stall is cold and cruel as everyone else.

I can't begin to fathom what my mind can reach.

Is this a heaven's place, or is this hell? My mind is

numb, far-reaching. In this void I think I have

found my home.

A WALK THROUGH THE PARK.

Walk Through the Park

It was 4 30 pm in the afternoon and I was taking a walk

in the park.

Dogs ran by me like they didn't see me,

sometimes sniffing my leg but not saying anything.

I had just moved to Florida with my daughter, she worked

at a bar downtown, taking the bus to and from work.

She was a hard little worker, never complaining,

even when the guys would hit her behind and call her dahling,

as if that meant something to her when really it didn't.

She thought she was the bomb in her own way.

I missed her while she was at work. She filled my thoughts daily

while she was gone, and when she got home we would make

dinner and talk about what we did during the day-me,

usually nothing.

CHRISTMAS DAYZ.

Christmas Dayz

I am past thirty and the days are getting longer, colder,

more bitter. I find myself looking into the flames of the fire

place and dreaming of white Christmas, just like the ones

you used to know and all that rubbish. I wish I could

see Santa. I wish I could get a dog for Christmas and

walk him every day and feed him dog cookies like I used

to do with Ruff, my little dog from long ago. I miss him

now, him who is in Heaven, running with all the other dogs

that had passed on, running forever, his little legs carrying

him as far as he wanted to go, which wasn't very far,

or maybe further, I couldn't speak dog language then and I

can't speak it now. Very little I wanted for Christmas,

maybe just one package. And then I will be happy.