March 13
FRIENDS
My sweet, dear, funny friend, steeped in Beat, whose hand I
can no longer hold. I yearn for the
wildly flying words, like feathers in a snow.
The shock of hair and glinting eyes I see so clearly in my shivering
mind. I must let go. I miss all the friends who for reason or no
have traveled down the yellow brick spiral to who knows where. My arms feel open and starved but there is no
way for me to retain myself and follow them.
Some are lost all together; some are lost only to me but my arms remain
empty nonetheless. My ruined heart is
sore and sad but chasing this friend or that will not heal it. The lonely path before me is the answer for
me, possibly only for me among our former group. And will the paths cross later in this day or
the next? I don’t know and am better not
knowing. My path requires me to release
outcomes as well as kindred. I must
travel with my arms open; some fall out of them and others find their way in.
Organize a
loophole and escape through it.
*
Three Card Monty
When I learn to excel at the good games
and learn to leave the bad ones alone
I think I will be alright.
Simple enough to do when I can take off this blindfold
and see the long term consequences of my pursuits.
Engage this pastime and have no future;
abandon that play and squander hope.
Eyes open wide, I see what there is to see,
but around the corner I am lost for anticipatory sight
and must guess at destinations, let alone intention.
Tricky, tricky, is this life which toys with me. I
I think I have the bow in hand,
though as life rubs me wrong then right,
I see I am played upon as much and as often as I play.
I take up the reins, but must also be led,
I can lay out the deal,
but sometimes I just have to roll the dice.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane
and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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