Pain Management

When they couldn't sedate me

And needed to cut strips of flesh

From my eyelid, I heard the sizzle

Smelled the scalpel burning as it sliced

And glimpsed the steam rising

Through a peephole under the

Sterile towel tent covering my face

Flesh harvested from my top eyelid 

Was grafted into the cavern under my bottom eyelid 

The pit left from digging the cancer out was filled

123 tiny stitches and bandage later, they taped an ice bag

To my head. I was warned when the Lidocaine wore off

It would hurt like hell

I lied--that I would drive straight back to the hotel

And even though the rain was pouring, I could still see

Well enough with one eye 

Until about 60 miles down I-80

Burning hot all consuming hell, stabbing, sharp, wish I were dead

So I pulled over at a Wendover casino.

To kill the pain

As long as I'm drinking and gambling, life doesn't hurt.

And it faded away until it really wasn't there 

Enough for me to sober up and get back in my truck 

A little poorer--but having money

Never made me happy.

Having you, did. 

My emergency contact. 

Someone to drive me home, 

Pathetic that this is your poem

You are not a bad person.

You give yourself away.

You take yourself back.

And that's alright

I take myself back, too

And once again, there's no emergency contact

And no one to drive me home

And I wish you had a better poem

Than this I'm-hurt-you-should-feel-sorry-for-me

Attempt to what? Get you back? No-no-no

Don't know what you were, or why you were

But you had to be removed

Just like the cancer in my eye--you had  to go

It's not pretty and leaves a big hole

That some other part of me must fill

It's an uncomfortable operation 

That  recovering from hurts

And there's nobody to drive me home

But I've been through so much worse

I'm happy to turn the page.

If there's something better for you

There's something better for me

Something better than this 

Pain management poem.

That you will never read, but somehow

Makes me feel better

Adios, Felicia 

this hard road

You and I have never 

Been together 

anytime

anywhere

ever

in this life

Yet at the end of this hard road

I love you

you're my home

every time

every place 

everywhere I go

and I know that you know

all I want is to find you 

at the end of this hard road

my blanket of stars my glowing moon

I hold you I feel you I drink you

everywhere I go

your spirit is my home

all alone always with you

and I know that you know

all I want is to find you 

at the end of this hard road

left it all to be on my own

to chase the wind

my heart of gold

the one I've always

never known

and I know that you know

all I want is to find you 

at the end of this hard road

In another life 

we touched the stars

flesh consuming  soul burning

love on fire nuclear infinity

fusion and fission elemental energy

life giving life

somewhere in that long ago

spirits fused together

 

now atoms blown apart

drift slowly back together

and I know that you know

all I want is to find you 

at the end of this hard road

To see your soul

I put a keyboard to my head

To see your soul,

Hear your heart,

And touch your thoughts.

I hit return

My brain explodes

And you don't matter

Any

More

Thirty Years

Girl it's been a long time--sorry to make you wait

But this heart is a like a tired old freight train

And it's going to take some time to unwind

I've been staring out the door of this box car
As the world rolls away think'n why a man 

wants to be lonely and loves the sky so grey

And you know what babe? It's not that

I don't love you. It's not that I don't care

It's just everything I've been through 

To get to here from there

I've chugged through all these hose-stop towns

Climbed o'er every mountain pass
A blanket of stars when the sun goes down
Tucked in that mournful whistle blast

With the moon as my mistress every night
Sweet companion wherever I roam
Thoughts travel on rails so straight and so right
I am least lonely when I'm alone

For thirty years --you know it was  true
Even the thirty  --I spent with her

Now all that's left I give to you

Am I'm sure that I'm sure that I'm sure

You are my Angel from Montgomery

My something to hold on to song

You are that missing part of me

When everything else is gone

I'm gonna get back on this train tonight

And travel with the big fat moon

It's been this way all of my life

But I'll be coming to see you soon

Yeah... I'm coming to see you soon

For Better or Worse

Coyote pale as a ghost
In my halogen beams
Two green Christmas lights
Staring back at me
In the middle of main street
Like you did 12 years and
700 miles ago
You good bad omen
What does it mean this time
For better or worse
Right

It gets better 

and 

It gets worse
I know

That Day...

according to Pinal County 
that day 
I got lost on my way to church
and
my ASU English professor sang
Amazing Grace
with our parents (even Amadello)
3 times
that day
Orlando bore the rings
and
we said we do
(and we did)....
that day
you talked and talked and talked
as Orlando shed his little grey tux 
and ran shirtless through the hall
while hooligans outside 
“just married” our car with potato salad
cold cuts, cookies and slices of cheese
but we didn’t dance 
(it was against our religion)...
that day
I hoisted you over my shoulder
and packed you out of there
your lithe little frame 
wriggling under your silky white dress
nose buried in your intoxicating perfume
as you staged mock protest
but we had waited long enough...
that day
for the red heart, silver moon, gold star glitter
that stuck to us
months after
thirty years after
our honeymoon...
that day
that Pinal County says

 never happened.

On a Denny's Napkin

I wrote you a poem once
on a Denny's napkin
because you
visited me in jail
in the mental hospital
even 

in the halfway house

I made something of my life
as broken as I  was am
and I feel felt grateful

but I've always been confused

you beat me
you beat my mother black and blue
you piece of shit.

I was in my 40's when my  defenses
of denial and suppressed memory let me see
that she didn't run into a clothes line pole
in the middle of the night like you said
your fists made the fat lips and raccoon eyes
staring fearfully back at me that traumatic morning
when I brought you breakfast in bed

my sister says you beat me too
with a belt buckle
on the side of the highway
but I  don't remember any pain
just her screaming at you to stop
she was  traumatized
and I never thought it was that bad
you hit me in the nose in third grade
knocked me down in the mud
you hit me with a cowboy boot
and a can of orange juice
and probably worse 

so
I beg my son's forgiveness
every time I see him

for being like you.

all I've ever wanted  needed is
to sort it all 
figure out what happened
because there's still this kid in me
that needs protected
and I'm in my sixties 

I don't want to go to the grave
as this confused broken child
who doesn't trust his own feelings

but I wrote a poem once
on a Denny's napkin
spring semester of
my senior year at ASU

you visited me in jails
in the mental hospitals

in the half-way houses
by God

you were there for me

and I shed
tears of gratitude on that Denny's napkin
from eyes at the end
of a seven year drought. 

It was an epiphany.

So is this.