For Halley, my sister and mentor

Finally it’s the end of this week:
Steve’s brother dead unexpectedly,
the kids terrible, and inside me, this first part of the year burning
like an infection. You tell me, it’s okay to be bad
when you’ve just started, but I only think,
Wasn't this supposed to be a calling?
And then, seeing him cry at the visitation
is the next best injustice,
like watching your father cry.
And you explain how Dad
told you, his youngest, that he had, once when you were 9
and some song came on the radio in his car
that reminded him we were barely children anymore.

Do you think if I heard it soon,
it might convince me too?
Because I've been feeling like one in my worst moments,
committing my most damaging mistakes--
a few this afternoon.
And to come home to a dark room after it,
the trash rotten and the cat hungry,
wanting someone to save you,
but being too insolent to let them
and too helpless to ask.
All you can do is sit on the couch and throw
a tantrum into a floral pillow. It’s not fair,
you think. It’s not fair, not fair,
it just isn’t,
while outside, grown-ups carry on
with their Friday night. The parties
you won’t attend are starting, and all the guests
with certainty and hope
lift their glasses
to what you aren't told.

10/24/2009

Author's Note: Revised 10-31-09

Posted on 10/24/2009
Copyright © 2010 Jesse Chapman