Five years ago?
Nothing.
Nothing you would notice.

Not without spending
a whole lot of time with me.
Watching my face and listening to me talk
as we moved along the better streets in D.C.
or even Richmond.

I hadn’t been to either one of those places
as often as I have since then.

You follow?

Small cities,
and selfless fall afternoons
were a lot more interesting
to me back then.

I wasn’t disappointed
if the skyline didn’t go on forever
and come off like a swaggering 3D movie.

Complete with infamous fireworks
and the old movie stars
dancing with whoever was stepping up
to hit the town like a drunk war hero

You wouldn’t catch any of that
from trying to get me to hold still
for five minutes of uplifting conversation
that would sound like I wrote it ahead of time.

I sometimes did just that.

Skin was a bit worse.
Read more books than I do now.
A little more arrogant than I am these days.

I wasn’t the same person I am now,
but I wasn’t a persona-in-transit.

I didn’t have the coffee cup eyes
of someone being forced to change.

Trust me.
Even when I contradict myself
and forget to apologize for it,
trust me.

Ten years ago?
That’s different.
That’s when you might notice something
from the other side of the room.

I was much different
back then
from the way I am now.

There were stories to tell,
but I wasn’t very good at making them funny.

My understanding of the art of embellishment
was a lot of crayon drawings and a bad spotlight
that kept burning me into an ugly cold sweat.

I had traveled extensively
but hadn’t seen very much.
I had tried hard liquor
but not with anyone who wanted me there.

I was a lot more awake, too.
Three a.m. was no trouble at all
and usually brought out the best in me.

Couldn’t believe
anyone
would ever want
to go to bed.

You probably could have picked me out
from the other side of the street
and had enough insight and weird behavior
for one of those deeply personal novels.

You would have noticed that I was the kind
of guy who was getting closer and closer
to just walking right out of town.

No particular reason
and nothing about a broken heart
or being fed up with the twelve-hour house of mirrors.

I just wanted to go somewhere.
I wanted to be a complete stranger
and find out if that was any different
in Chicago than it was in Texas.

I don’t seem to want that as much anymore,
and I’m usually pretty worthless after midnight.

It’s a shame,
but I guess it’s some kind of growing up thing.

Thankfully,
I still have
a good memory.

It’s done wonders for the recent tragedies.

01/30/2010

Posted on 01/30/2010
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